Bodyguard
by Corpium
Summary: UP FOR ADOPTION. NOT AN UPDATE. Harry left Britain when he found out he was a Horcrux. Finally finding a use for his 'saving people' thing, he spent years as a bodyguard named Charles Frost. The only problem now: Voldemort wants to hire him.
1. Frost

Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_ or any of its affiliates.

AN: If you like this, LET ME KNOW! Or else! … Jk… No, seriously, R&R. It means Read and Respond. Do it!

~HP~

"I refuse to go to Britain," Harry repeated fervently.

"But our Lord needs you, and he'll pay you well, Frost," Harry's old friend, Hermione, insisted. It was a shame that she only knew him as Charles Frost, and not as Harry. That was what losing one's memories would do, however.

"He doesn't _need _me," Harry insisted. _He needs anyone _but_ me, _he thought. "There are plenty of other bodyguards out there for him to hire besides me."

"True, but I'll be blunt. You're the only decent one who's jobless right now, and by the looks of it," she started, looking at his small shack distastefully. "You could currently use a well-paying position."

Unfortunately, it was true. Harry did need a job. As a British exile, he didn't feel that accessing his parents' wealthy Gringotts account would be very wise, even in a different country. Doing that would be like shouting, "Here I am, Voldemort! I, Harry James Potter, am in Madrid, Spain! Bet'cha can't get me! Nyah, nyah!" …No, announcing himself like that was definitely _not_ on Harry's list of priorities, which meant that he had to get by on what money he could make.

While his job guarding the wizarding King of Spain had gone well for four years, that _had _been a year ago, and his job hadn't exactly ended well. He took a Dark severing curse meant for the king, which knocked him unconscious. When Harry had woken up, the king was dead. If he had known the counter to the severing curse, he probably would have been able to keep fighting and save the king's life. But he hadn't spent enough time learning the Dark arts, so the king was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. Unless he started learning Necromancy. But that was definitely a big no-no. The prince had told him to 'take it easy', but he really only wallowed in depression and self-blame for the next month. After that, he spent the rest of the year studying a mix of martial arts and Dark magic.

He had planned to put himself back up for hire in just a week, but Hermione had found him first. She looked different -younger, despite being physically older than when he last saw her eight years ago. There were less lines on her face, and her old bushy hair now hung in a high, somewhat less bushy ponytail.

"You're right, Ms. Granger. However, I'm sure I'll be able to find a… more convenient job soon," he attempted to argue.

His old friend appeared as stubborn as ever, however. "'Convenient?'" She exclaimed, aghast. "I assure you, this will be an incredibly 'convenient' job," she started acidicly. "You'll merely use the International Floo Network, with myself as your escort, and I will take you to our Lord. He will give you instructions from there. As for the actual job, He won't even be in the public eye very much this year. You'll have everything you need provided by us, including your food, room and board, library and more! And to be honest, this job probably won't be that difficult. Everyone fears our Lord, and He can take care of Himself. This will probably be the most 'cushiony' job you'll ever have! Not to mention one of the most well-paying ones, too…"

"I need some time to think about it," he said noncommittally.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Why do you seem so against working for our Lord? Is it the new administration? It's been eight years since it was put into affect, and I, for one, _know_ how helpful it has been to our people! The school curriculum is more varied, muggleborns are brought into our world as soon as they're born, magical creatures have more rights, the-"

"All right, all right, H-Ms. Granger! I know! I actually… I -I think-" he seemed to find speaking difficult all of the sudden. His voice lowered slightly. "I… approve… of most of the new administration's changes," he bit out reluctantly.

Hermione tilted her chin up, looking at him assessingly. "You didn't actually answer the question. Why are you so averse to working for our Lord?"

"…It's not your Lord that's the problem," he seemed to admit. "As… idiotic as it may seem, it's really the weather. It's always so cloudy in Britain -I want to see the sun every once in a while, understand?"

"Oh, completely," Hermione drawled sarcastically, looking through the shack's dingy window at the stormy sky. _When did Hermione learn how to speak that way? _Harry wondered wistfully. He had certainly missed a lot in the last eight years, hadn't he?

"Look, Mr. Frost," Hermione began seriously, "The weather doesn't matter. You are in need of a job. We're offering one. I highly recommend you take it."

"I'm sure there's someone el-"

"Are you aware that you aren't actually a Spanish citizen? Did you know there are no formal records of Charles Frost's birth, citizenship, or schooling in any country in the world? I've done my research. Charles Frost suddenly appeared out of nowhere eight years ago -coincidentally, right when our Lord gained full control of Britain. Now, I don't care if you're one of the old exiled muggleborns, and honestly, neither does our Lord -as long as you take the job. But if you don't… you won't stand a chance. Even with minimal effort, I, let alone our Lord, can easily prevent you from ever having a job again…. Of course, the decision is up to you," she said, an angelic smile adorning her face.

Harry grit his teeth, thinking hard. Plans were formed and discarded within the span of milliseconds, but he could see no alternative to taking the job. He doubted creating yet another alter ego would solve the dilemma, and he really did need the money. Surely, he could find some spells that would hide his true identity from Voldemort. Perhaps some of those ancient Egyptian spells he learned from his year spent curse-breaking…

"I'll do it," he said with finality. "I'll meet you in the northern corner of the International Floo Lobby tomorrow at…. Do you have any preference about the time? I'd like a time after lunch, if possible."

An infuriating smirk tugged at his old best friend's lips. "How would four be?"

"I said _after _lunch, Ms. Granger," he quipped, smirking slightly.

Hermione blinked. Sounding slightly unsure, she tried again, "How would six be?"*

Harry flicked his eyes towards the ceiling in exasperation. "Fine." He didn't want to look at her.

"I'll take my leave now. I appreciate your cooperation."

_Oh, I'm sure, _Harry thought sardonically as he heard the 'pop' of her apparation. '_Cooperation', my- _

One of his alarm spells went off, interrupting his thoughts. It was time to feed his rattlesnake, Fang. He had named it after Hagrid's boarhound, surprisingly enough. The snake was certainly just as cowardly as Hagrid's dog had been.

Harry had first met Fang in the black market. The snake was going to be used as potion ingredients, and Harry had taken the liberty of buying the doomed animal as soon as the snake started showing his all too trusting personality. "_I love my owners_," the snake had told him. "_They always feed me and tell me how much I'm worth to them!_" Apparently, Harry's 'saving people thing' applied to more than people. Besides, he had argued with himself, a snake would be one more defense he could use against would-be assassins.

_"What am I going to do with you?"_ Harry mused aloud after Hermione's visit. He couldn't very well take Fang with him to Britain. Voldemort would be all too curious about his bodyguard's ability to use Parseltongue.

_"Respell my heat rock?"_ the snake asked. Harry chuckled weakly, thoughts lost in the past.

~HP~

No matter how hard he tried, Harry was never able to keep a low profile. Just for once, he really wished life would be boring.

When Harry was searching for Voldemort's Horcruxes with Hermione and Ron, his attitude had been rather cynical and dark. It only worsened when Ron ditched them, and Hermione found a spell to 'destroy' the soul shard within the locket. Except the spell hadn't actually destroyed the fragment. Oh no, that would have been way too easy. Instead, the spell, a relatively simple charm that was used by mind healers to assist them with their patients, actually sent the soul fragment back to Voldemort.

Needless to say, the Dark Lord was rather curious about his returning sanity, and he decided to inspect the links between himself and his Horcruxes. To his utter amusement, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the epitome of all that was Light and good, was also a Horcrux. His Horcrux. He took great delight in informing the boy.

Harry, however, was not amused. Already in a spiral of depression after Ron left, he thought he had only been a tool to Dumbledore, and what good had the wizarding world done for him, anyway? He pointed his wand at himself and cast the soul repairing charm, only to find somewhat painfully that, while most of Voldemort's soul had returned to the snake-like man, a sliver had grown attached to Harry's own soul, and the repairing charm had only solidified the bond between them. Hermione… Hermione had lost the majority of her memories in the backlash from the spell. He left her with the Weasleys, feeling lost without her guidance.

Harry left Britain to its own fate, then, sending a letter to the _Daily Prophet _telling Voldemort, "You live your life, and I'll live mine," effectively canceling the prophecy. It was painfully simple. He just wanted to get away from it all.

He first went to Egypt, where he spent a year as a curse breaker's apprentice, then to Romania, where he learned he was not meant to be a dragon keeper, then to France, where he learned he was not meant to be a carpenter, either, and then to Spain. Spain was an interesting place. He should have left as soon as he noticed. He went on a treasure hunting expedition, which actually went fairly well. However, just as he was bargaining with wizarding Spain's royalty, an assassin simply had to make an attempt on the king's life. Harry's 'saving people thing' simply couldn't abide by that, and he leapt to the man's defense.

It had been Halloween, and he had been twenty. Now, he was twenty-five, and he had already made a name for himself as one of the best bodyguards of Europe…. That may have had something to do with Spain's on and off again revolution. People were always trying to assassinate the king. After five years of failure, someone had finally succeeded (on Halloween, no less), and Harry was out of a job.

~HP~

"Good afternoon! Are you ready, Mr. Frost?" Hermione asked all too happily.

"Yes."

"Right then. I'll go first." She grabbed a handful of purple, special long distance floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. "London!" She exclaimed clearly as she tossed the powder down. She disappeared with a rush of purple flames.

Harry sighed heavily, fingering his shrunken trunk in his pocket. Maybe he should just leave now -abandon the whole 'Charles Frost' charade and start anew. He had always liked the name Jacque…. But what could he do? If he went back to being a bodyguard then surely people would notice that right as the prominent Frost disappeared, a new talented figure with a similar style appeared on the scene. Maybe he could teach… No, teachers were too few and too noticeable. Auror? No. Professional Quidditch player? Definitely not. He could always be a shopkeeper… No, just no. He could, but -no. It was much too boring. He did not want to be a shopkeeper. Besides, something about going back just _compelled _him to leave. He had to know what Britain had become in his absence.

He grabbed the floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. "London," he said unenthusiastically.

He did not like International Floo travel, he had discovered a long time ago. He felt like he was being dissolved, then put back together, and then twisted into a knot. He didn't like it -not one bit.

He landed as ungracefully as ever, sprawled out on the black marble floor like an uncoordinated child. Out of mere habit, he leapt to his feet as quickly as he fell. He looked around, locating all the physical exits, and reached out with his magic to sense the wards and spells on the place. Several employees and passersby stared at him, wide eyed and amused. He shook his head and glared at them. "Ahem," came Hermione's voice.

Harry nearly had a heart attack. _Please tell me Hermione did _not_ turn into a mini-Umbridge! Please! _He turned around quickly, giving her his full attention.

"If you're done, Mr. Frost, I'll give you a tour of the Ministry, and then I'll take you to the Minister's office. Our Lord will meet you there." She began to walk off without waiting for a response.

Harry nodded absently and followed her, dread building in the pit of his stomach. He had a bad feeling about this.

Harry was adjusting the wards on his shrunken trunk just outside the Minister's office when Voldemort found him. "_Liquidus dimmitto,_" Harry mouthed silently, twisting his wand around in a wide figure eight and tapping the small trunk. He pretended not to notice the all too recognizable, powerful presence standing not two feet away.

"Interesting. Not many people would remember to take such small precautions with their possessions, Mr. Frost. I commend you," spoke a smooth voice.

Harry almost decided not to look up, dreading what he would see, but when he did, he blinked several times in surprise. Lord Voldemort's previous creepy, snake-like visage was gone. Instead, Lord Voldemort stood tall and proud. Still pale, but now with a real nose, lips and hair, he appeared more like an older version of the Tom Riddle Harry had met in the Chamber of Secrets. His red irises were the only things remaining that looked like the Voldemort Harry had faced long ago in the Department of Mysteries. Harry wondered what had brought about the change. The return of most of his soul, or something else?

_That doesn't change who he is, though_, Harry reminded himself. _I must never forget that._

"A pleasure to meet you…?" Harry trailed off questioningly.

"You may address me as 'sir'."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir." Harry remedied. He was grateful he didn't have to call the man 'My lord' or any such thing. He didn't know if he'd be able to go through with it.

"And I you," returned Voldemort, offering Harry his hand.

Harry shook the hand firmly, not wanting to appear tentative, and received a jolt of energy for his trouble. _I really hope that happens with everyone he shakes hands with…_ Somehow, Harry didn't think he was that lucky.

"Do you deal well with side-along apparition?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes…" Harry answered, eyes narrowed.

"Good," said the man, placing his hand on the younger wizard's shoulder, and Harry suddenly felt like he was being pushed through a large rubber tube.

Harry landed with a lurch, but managed to remain on his feet. Voldemort dropped his hand quickly, eyeing Harry distastefully.

"Welcome to my current quarters," said Voldemort formally. "I'll give you a tour of the areas you'll need to know. To begin with, this is the Grand Hall."

They appeared to be in some sort of old castle, one somewhat similar to Hogwarts, although perhaps a good deal smaller. As Voldemort showed Harry the kitchens, the library, the guest rooms, ball room and more, he also told Harry his duties. Harry (still called Frost) didn't have many, surprisingly enough. He was supposed to watch the wards constantly, and if there was a problem, it was Harry's responsibility to take care of it. Intruders were to be placed in the dungeons, and technical difficulties were to be "fixed and improved upon". Occasionally, Voldemort would need help in a ritual, and Harry would have to be that helper. The few times Voldemort attended public events were when he would truly need Harry to watch his back.

"This door leads to your suite, and the door further down leads to my own. You will always knock before you enter unless you have _genuine_ reason to believe I need your help," the man said darkly, implying he would _never _need something so pitiful as help. "Now, I'm going to the library to read. You may take some time to unpack and view your rooms, if you wish, but I expect you to begin inspecting the wards today. There are also several hidden passageways in the castle. Find them. You may view it as… a test of sorts. Of course, you shouldn't have too much trouble with that." The man smirked. "You were always an expert at exploring castles, weren't you, Harry?"

Harry's glamored blue eyes locked with red. Hopelessly, Harry thought, _I should have been a shopkeeper…_

~HP~

*A lovely suggestion from _FreakFreak. _Apparently lunch (siesta) in Spain goes from 2pm to 5pmish.

Please do not favorite this story or favorite me as an author without leaving a review._  
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AN: See those blue underlined words that say 'Review this Chapter' just below this? Yeah, you should click them.


	2. Fine

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any of its affiliates.

T for language.

A/N: It seems some people are annoyed at how weak Harry is in this chapter. Don't worry, he's actually not nearly this weak; you'll find out why he's this way in the next chapter, and then you'll get to see him be BA (but not quite super!Harry, either).

~HP~

Harry froze, his magic coiling around him defensively.

As a bodyguard, he had to be ready for an attack constantly. Killing could take milliseconds for an assassin, and even the mere action of drawing a wand could waste too much precious time for a bodyguard to risk. Harry had been training with wandless magic for the last four years, so even without his wand ready, Harry would be able to hold his own for at least a few minutes –hopefully enough time to escape- if Voldemort attacked. Even so, trying to weasel his way out of the dangerous situation would be more prudent than attacking Voldemort immediately. _Focus_, he reminded himself, _stay calm. _

"I'll leave," Harry said solemnly. "I'll leave right now, even. You'll never hear from me again. I'll swear it if I-"

"Why would I want you to leave?" Voldemort asked amusedly.

Harry didn't like the sound of that. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He shifted, eyeing the Dark Lord warily. "I don't know," Harry said guardedly. "You tell me."

"You are not simply Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived," the man spoke with a slight grimace. "You are also the vessel for one of my Horcruxes. Now, I allowed you to live on your own for years, but after your little incident in Madrid, I can see all too clearly that keeping yourself alive and well is obviously beyond your capacities."

"My 'little incident'! What are you talking about? I protected the king for years –_five_ years! And wizarding Spain is one of the most _volatile_ countries in Europe. I am more than capable of protecting others, let alone myself! And what do you mean, you 'allowed me to live on my own'!" Harry spat. "I have plenty of experience. I spent the last eight years studying. I can-"

"Oh, really? Eight whole years? How impressive," the man drawled. His eyes narrowed. "You forget who you're ranting to, Harry."

Harry groaned inwardly. _So much for staying calm… _He swallowed and breathed in deeply. The cold, crisp air in the corridor tickled his nose, and his stomach felt cramped. "I can take care of myself… _and _your Horcrux," he declared firmly, chin tilted upwards defiantly. "I haven't died yet, have I?" He asked darkly.

"And that attitude is exactly why you will remain here. Several months ago, you leapt in front of an unknown, Dark curse. You had no idea what it could have done to you, yet you chose to _sacrifice _yourself in a millisecond. You could have died. You treat your life too casually. You can't be trusted."

"Oh, is that why you hired me? To keep an eye on me! How ironic!" Harry exclaimed with a bark of laughter. "Lord Voldemort, the bloody Dark Lord, is _worried _about the Boy-Who-Lived's safety. Dumbledore would be so proud," Harry retorted, smiling saccharinely.

Abruptly, an idea came to life in the forefront of his mind. If he went along with Voldemort and set the man off guard, he would be able slip away more easily. He could lie low somewhere –be a shopkeeper, if he had to, as boring as it would be. Then he could look for another job. Or, better yet, Harry could go along with Voldemort, get his money from Gringotts, _then_ escape and take a nice long vacation in the Bahamas. Yes, that sounded like an amazing plan.

_Wait a minute_, Harry thought, his lungs suddenly feeling constricted. _Back in Spain, I was convinced my only choice was to accept the job from Voldemort. I thought making a new identity would have just caused me more trouble. Yet here I am, ready to escape, make a new identity and find a new job. What changed? Unless… like fifth year… _"Voldemort-"

"You will not address me as such. You will address me as 'sir', or 'my Lord'." The Dark Lord's voice was tense.

Harry ground his teeth. "Fine. _Sir_, did you tamper with my mind to force me to come here?" Harry stared at the man coldly, nostrils flaring.

The Dark Lord stared back for a long moment, his frigid expression closed. The silence was ominous and oppressive. Finally, he stated simply, "Yes, I was rather surprised. After eight years, you still haven't learnt Occlumency."

Harry sucked in a breath. His mouth seemed to open and close by its own accord. In the past, he would have exploded and lost his temper with the man. He would have yelled and stomped. The walls would have rattled as he lost control of his magic. But now he was different. Now, he was cool and collected.

Or at least he liked to think so….

_Screw it. _

Staring at the floor, he purposefully made his shoulders sag and his chin drop. He took a deep breath. "I understand," he said, sounding defeated. "I –_Stupefy_!" He shouted angrily, thrusting his hand towards the Dark Lord and forcing his magic into a powerful red beam that flew towards the man.

The Dark Lord stepped smoothly out of the way, stony red eyes narrowing.

Harry swallowed. _Crap_, he thought. _I should have spent more time thinking that through_. He swiftly shifted to a fighting stance, only to dart out of the way as a ray of blue light flew towards him. He focused on the Dark Lord, who was waving his wand in some intricate pattern. Harry looked down and noticed a hazy green film wrapping itself around his feet and creeping upwards. A grimace tugged at his lips. It was a spell meant to siphon the victim's magic away. Luckily for Harry, he knew how to counter it.

Harry had once wondered why using magic required so much effort. Why so many incantations and wand movements? Why couldn't intention alone control spells?

During his year spent curse-breaking, he had learned a rudimentary but valuable lesson. Magic wasn't simply a single part of a wizard, like a heart or kidney. Magic was a network, and each wizard and witch's personal magical core was a small "port", a keystone, in the network that only he or she could access. Each spell witches and wizards used had been "programmed", or engraved, into the magical network by actual spell-makers and required one or two key words to access it. So, like in Harry's case, without a lot of time to study a spell's mechanics, casting a spell that didn't necessarily exist required a combination of power, an extensive knowledge of Latin, and very specific instructions. Harry hoped to accomplish the task now.

Harry cast several quick bat-bogey hexes in succession to keep the Dark Lord busy, then immediately began to cast the complicated countercurse for the siphoning curse. "_Ostendo sum el net que rapio mi veneficus…_"

The Dark Lord easily parried Harry's hexes. "Why so angry, Harry?" He taunted. "You'll be able to see all your friends again –that is, if you ever had any in the first place."

Harry clenched his teeth, biting back a retort. "_Y tribuo suus veneficus volo…_" He finished casting, ending the wand movements by bringing his wand around in a large arc and pointing it at Voldemort. The green haze that had been moving up Harry's torso swept away from him and shot towards the Dark Lord.

The man sidestepped and flicked his wand at the green haze, sweeping it aside. Harry wasn't too upset, though. At least the spell wasn't siphoning his magic anymore.

The Dark Lord quickly cast several spells in succession. Harry barely managed to dodge a purple streak of light, only to see a large lioness burst into being right in front of him. It roared, glaring at him angrily. As it reared, Harry's vision suddenly went black. "_Incarcerus_!" Harry shouted, casting in the lion's direction. A heavy thump and a low, livid snarl told him it had hit the floor.

Thrown off balance without his vision, he tottered backwards.

"You look like you're having a little trouble keeping up, Harry. I'm disappointed. What happened to all your 'experience'? I thought you could take care of yourself. _Sectumsempra._" He barely heard Voldemort murmur the curse quietly. Harry clumsily reached out with his magic in an attempt to detect the spell. He could tell it was coming towards him, but he couldn't figure out exactly where it was. Hoping to avoid it, he stepped to the left –and tripped right into the curse. It easily cut through the protective enchantments on his body, and the force of it knocked him backwards into the corridor's rough stone wall.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he heaved himself off the wall and stumbled purposely from side to side to avoid any possible spells coming his way. He scrambled to pull his thoughts together as he tried to remember how to dispel the blinding curse. "_Reverto oris_," he whispered harshly, waving his wand in the shape of an eye.

He released a sigh of relief as his sight returned. The wall to his left was lightly spattered with blood –his blood. _Wonderful_. Sharp canine teeth bared, the lioness lay struggling on the ground. "_Expulso_," he cast grimly, and the lioness disappeared with a pop.

Seething, he glared upwards at Voldemort. Upper lip slightly curled, the Dark Lord glowered at him but did nothing. He seemed to be waiting for something.

"_Confringo_," Harry said lowly. The curse shot toward Voldemort with deadly accuracy, but the man still did nothing. Harry didn't understand. _Why is he just standing there?_ Harry wondered nervously.

The spell disappeared right before it hit the Dark Lord. Harry pursed his lips, thinking. Had the curse dissipated? Or had Voldemort absorbed it? Opening his magical awareness, Harry tentatively cast "_Rictumsempra_", a minor tickling charm. He sensed the spell being absorbed by some sort of shield surrounding Voldemort.

"What's wrong, _Tom_?" Harry mocked, trying to buy himself some time. "Can't cast a simple Cruciatus anymore? My, my, you haven't had a teenage orphan to try to murder for the last eight years. You must be going soft."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. The shield was the defensive version of the magic-siphoning curse the Dark Lord had cast on Harry earlier, but Harry didn't know the exact counter. Frowning in concentration, Harry racked his brain for any incantations he could splice together. "_Fracta con_-"

"_Crucio_," Voldemort hissed.

Agony ripped through Harry's body. He crumpled to the floor, curling in on himself. After so long, he had forgotten what the Cruciatus curse felt like. He clawed at himself, biting through his lower lip as he held back a scream. He wished he could retreat into his mind, block out all the torture, but it was everywhere, coursing through his very veins. A scream ripped unwillingly out of his throat.

The pain stopped as suddenly as it began. Harry breathed raggedly, chest heaving. He stood up shakily. He wouldn't back down. Not now. Not ever (even if it did feel like his stomach was trying to eat him from the inside). He wouldn't lose his independence to a damned control-freak Dark Lord, not after he had worked so hard to earn it in the first place. _Apparition! Why hadn't I thought of it before!_ He thought hopefully.

There were anti-apparation wards. _Of course._

Harry glared at Voldemort as best he could as he fought off the after-affects of the Cruciatus. The Dark Lord looked furious.

"Tsk, tsk," Harry said, a little less strongly than he would have liked. Nevertheless, he continued, "Did you just lose your temper, _Tom_? You'd think a Dark Lord would have more self-control, but-"

Harry shut his mouth and actually took a step backward as Voldemort's eyes _burned_ with uncontrolled fury, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Fear flooded Harry's senses like it had never done before as the man's face contorted into an ugly scowl. Dust fell as the walls shook, and the ceiling buckled –and Harry wasn't the one causing it.

Voldemort began to snarl, "Avada-"

The man halted, blinking once. Some incomprehensible madness seemed to leave his eyes. He stared at Harry, his face abruptly devoid of emotion. Calmly, slowly, he said, "Your wandwork is too flashy."

Eyes wide, Harry gaped, speechless. _What?_

"Dinner will be served when you wish. Ask for Tipsy," Voldemort ordered. He pivoted and walked in the opposite direction, black robes swishing as he turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

Harry still stared in Voldemort direction after he left, confused. "What the –ow!" He looked down at his blood-soaked chest. "Oh," he murmured. The Sectumsempra curse had hit him pretty hard. With all the dodging and moving about he'd been doing, the blood hadn't clotted yet, and the long, deep gash was still bleeding. "_Episkey_," he cast, but the wound only tingled instead of healed.

He moved to the wall and leaned against it. His thoughts moved sluggishly. He whispered a blood clotting spell, "_Cruor tela_,"but it had no affect. _What…? _He'd been hit by Dark spells before, and the clotting spell had always worked. Then again, those curses had been cast by assassins and fanatics, not by a Dark Lord. _Right, if magic doesn't work, try Muggle. _

He pulled off his torn shirt, cringing as the cloth pulled away from the wound, and examined the cut. It started on the middle of his right bicep, crossed to his chest, and stretched all the way to his right hip bone. "_Scourgify_," he muttered to clean up the blood surrounding the wound, ignoring the slightly painful feeling. At least that spell worked. He bunched the ripped shirt together and pressed it firmly to the injury. He sank to the ground. Blood didn't flow quite so quickly when one was sitting, not standing. He breathed deeply, ignoring the pain as his chest rose.

_What's stopping me from leaving now?_ He suddenly wondered, tensing. _I can leave –well, after I heal a bit. Waiting to be able to go to Gringotts is less important than staying alive. Voldemort almost killed me. Again. He probably only stopped because he remembered I was a Horcrux. What do I do now?_

He looked down at his shirt. It had been a nice white dress shirt. It looked more like a rag now. A rather blood-soaked rag. Harry leaned his head against the wall with a sigh and closed his eyes. He muttered a wandless warming charm. The world seemed to drift away slowly as he basked in the heat.

That was how Hermione found him. Sleeping in a sitting position against the wall with a bloody rag in his lap as his wound slowly bled sluggishly, he was shirtless and his dull brown hair was in disarray. Hermione swore silently. "Frost! Frost! Wake up!" She hissed and kneeled next to him, shaking his unhurt arm lightly.

His head flopped away from her.

Hermione's eyes flicked upwards in exasperation. "For the love of –_ennervate_!"

Harry's eyes jerked open. He groaned. "Hermione?"

She looked at him oddly. "We'll find out how you know my first name later. First off, what spell did this?" She asked briskly, taking the cloth from his limp hands and pressing it to back to the gash.

"How did you get here through the wards?" Harry asked, tilting his head to look at her.

A tic seemed to develop over Hermione's right eye. "House-elf. Now, what spell did He use?"

"Sectumsempra."

"Oh, good," she spoke softly, sounding relieved.

Harry let his head fall gently back on the wall. "How is that a good thing?" he asked, eyes fluttering shut. His stomach twisted.

"That's one of His nicer curses. He must be fond of you." She muttered some spells under her breath, and Harry felt a strange stretching sensation as the cut closed. She handed him a large vial. "It's a blood-replenishing potion. Drink it."

Harry eyed the glass vial suspiciously. She may be Hermione, but she wasn't the Hermione he'd known since first year. When she'd been hit by the backlash of the soul-repairing charm when they were seventeen, she'd lost all her memories from third year in Hogwarts and later, but she retained all the knowledge she'd learned in books. Amnesia was a strange thing. "Do you carry blood-replenishing potions around with you often?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He really did need a blood-replenishing potion. He couldn't seem to keep his thoughts focused.

Hermione's eyes darkened. "Yes, I do, actually. We'll talk about that after we fix you up a bit. Now drink the potion."

Harry continued eyeing the vial. It looked like a blood-replenishing potion, and Hermione had only healed him so far. He uncorked it gingerly, sniffing subtly. It smelled like a blood-replenishing potion. He brought it closer to his mouth and took a small mouthful. It tasted like a blood-replenishing potion. _Whatever._ He thought and gulped down the liquid.

"Right, Frost," said Hermione. "We need to talk. Tipsy!"

A house-elf with wide blue eyes popped into view beside her. "Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"Take us back to my home, please. The kitchen."

"Yes, Ms. Granger," said the house-elf demurely, grabbing hold of both Harry and Hermione's elbows and apparating them away.

Harry stayed standing only with the help of Hermione's support. The world seemed to tilt dangerously. Hermione moved him gently into a black leather chair on a silver stand. Harry put his elbows on the black marble table in front of him, letting his head rest in his hands. Hermione took the ruined bloody shirt away from Harry and moved away to the side, and Harry heard the sound of running water.

"Here," said Hermione, handing Harry a damp washcloth. He leant back in his chair and began to wipe his face with it.

Hermione sat diagonally from him across the table, clenching her hands tightly in front of her. "You haven't _just _been hired to be our Lord's bodyguard," she deadpanned.

Harry looked up at the ceiling. "And what else have I been hired for?"

"You've been hired not by our Lord, but by the Ministry. You've been hired to be… Britain's bodyguard. Basically," she spoke frankly.

Harry sighed. "Explain."

"Our Lord is brilliant. He's a genius, and he knows how to get things done. Except –he's insane. Sometimes."

Harry looked at her disbelievingly. "No, really?" He rubbed his temples. "Please tell me you didn't just figure this out."

"I don't think you understand me, Frost. He's only insane _sometimes_. He has… episodes. One moment He'll be perfectly sane, and the next… Picking up after Him has taken the Ministry our best Unspeakables."

"Ah. So how exactly does that make me Britain's bodyguard? Why don't those 'best Unspeakables' keep doing their job?"

"Because they have other things to work on."

Harry quirked an eyebrow in a silent question.

"Those things are none of your concern," she told him sternly. "We need you to help keep His episodes out of the public eye first and foremost, and if you can, figure out how to make them stop."

"So what am I supposed to do? Take the brunt of his temper tantrums?" Harry sat up straight in his chair, staring at her incredulously. "What do you think I am? A babysitter? Go hire someone else."

Hermione gazed at Harry beseechingly. "You're the only one who can handle Him! We need help! We need _your _help!"

"Why me!" Harry leaned forward in his chair, fists clenched in front of him on the table.

"You're the only one who's powerful enough." She explained.

_Really. _"Powerful enough _to what_?" Harry asked, frustrated. "Powerful enough to be his bloody punching bag and _not die_?"

Hermione looked at the table, not responding.

"Wonderful," Harry muttered. _Even without everyone knowing me as the Boy-Who-Lived, I'm still supposed to be the Man-Who-Wouldn't-Die. What did I do wrong to make Fate hate me so much? Did I destroy a world in my past life or something? _"Why does Britain need him, anyway? Can't the Wizengamot just send him on vacation or something? Give him a grant and tell him to go explore Africa or something!" _Or you could all just gang up on him and kill him._

"We really do need Him. He's done a lot for us. He keeps everything organized. He wants everything to be perfect. He's pushed for and made reforms. He-"

"Sounds like he has OCD," Harry grumbled.

Hermione chuckled weakly. "To be honest, I'd say that's a strong possibility."

Harry really felt like whining. _Do I have to?_ "What will happen if I say no? Go off on my own and actually get a life?"

"People will die. Painfully."

Harry snorted.

"Please. We need you," Hermione pleaded. "Too many people have already died."

Harry pursed his lips and looked upward. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently. "Fine."

_What have I just gotten myself into?_

~HP~

Please do not favorite this story or favorite me as an author without leaving a review.

A/N(rambling time!): Really, what have I just gotten myself into? I saw all the reviews I got for the first chapter, and you know, any regular person would be like, "Wow! This is awesome!" But noooo, my first thought was "Oh, crap! What do I do?" Cuz honestly, I kinda wrote the first chapter on a whim. At 3ish a.m. in the morning. With almost no plot in mind. So then I called a relative and we brainstormed and I was like "Thank you soo much!" And so… I kinda have a plot now.

The good news, depending on your point of view, is that I'm planning on writing this kind of episode-style, like a TV show, so I can write without planning every single bloody thing out. Which is good for you, the reader, because it means I won't suddenly abandon the story.

Anyway, this chapter didn't come out quite the way I wanted it –at all (insert many insecurities here), but I hope you liked it anyway. Have a good one!

Review please so I know what you like and don't like! (Even if you hated the whole thing, especially the fight scene because I really had no idea what to do w/it. Sorry, I tried. Anyway, shutting up now.)


	3. Pass

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any of its affiliates.

~HP~

Harry woke with a headache the size of Mt. Vesuvius.

_That comparison makes no sense_, Harry thought. A headache wasn't really solid, and it certainly couldn't be the size of a volcano because a headache was in a person's head, and no one's head could possible be that large, or at least he hoped so… Maybe someone's head could be that large. Maybe if someone cast a ton of engorgement charms on another person's head repeatedly, that person's head would then grow to be the size of a volcano. Except they would probably die first because their body wouldn't be able to support a head that size, so that wouldn't really count as having a head the size of a volcano because a person couldn't really possess a head when they were dead. Unless the dead body having the head as part of it counted as having an abnormally large head. But a dead person couldn't have a headache, so a dead body with a head the size of a volcano still didn't make having a headache the size of Mt. Vesuvius possible…

Voldemort's head was definitely the size of a volcano, metaphorically speaking, Harry thought. Because Voldemort's ego was even bigger than Mt. Vesuvius. It was "Mt. Vesuvius," yeah? Not "Volc. Vesuvius"? Vesuvius was a volcano, not a mountain, right?

_I really don't feel good_, he thought before promptly rolling himself halfway over the side of the bed. Then he puked.

He stared blearily at the mess that had previously been his dinner. Or was it his lunch?

_I hate my life._

~HP~

Harry stood in the corner of his bedroom, examining the wardstone before him carefully. Similar in appearance to a Seer's crystal ball, it was a floating, transparent crystal globe of magic that provided an unwavering image of Voldemort's castle grounds. Harry tapped the wardstone gently with the tip of his wand, and the castle was suddenly shrouded in shimmering blue netting, a visual representation of the outermost layer of wards. He placed two fingers on the globe, his brow furrowed in concentration, and plucked a single strand of netting out of the globe. After twisting his hand so that the string wrapped around his wrist, he pulled out his wand and sent a powerful jolt of magic into the part of the strand between his wrist and the globe to sever if from the rest of the wards. He funneled a tiny amount of power back into the wards to secure the slightly loose spot, making sure they were stable before he slipped his wand into midair storage.

"Would Master Frost be wanting some breakfast? Tipsy will be making sure it will be safe for Master Frost's stomach to handle," asked Tipsy, the resident house-elf, from just outside Harry's doorway.

"No thank you, Tipsy…." _For all I know, Voldemort's poisoned it._ "Was that you who cleaned up my mess from this morning?"

"Yes, Master Frost."

"Sorry about that," Harry told her. "Thanks for cleaning it up."

The house-elf's eyes grew wide as saucers. _Not again_, Harry inwardly groaned.

"O-oh, Master Frost, it is nothing. Tipsy is just a house-elf, not meant to be-"

Harry interrupted, not wanting to deal with a tearful house-elf. "Um, I have some clothes I need mended. Do you think you could-"

"Oh, yes, of course. Tipsy will do any-"

"Yes, yes, just let me go find them." Harry dug through his dresser, trying to remember if he actually had any damaged clothing. "Ah, here we go," he muttered, handing her some holey socks and a dark robe with burnt fringes.

"Tipsy will set them on Master Frost's bed when she is done," she told him before popping away.

Harry sighed, happy to avoid dealing with the overly grateful house-elf. Now, to deal with two completely different house-elves. "Kreacher, come," he summoned. "Dobby, may I speak with you?"

Kreacher apparated into sight first, asking. "Yes, Master?"

"Hello, Kreacher," Harry greeted him.

Over the years, Kreacher had changed. He refused to be freed, but his posture had straightened. His eyes looked brighter, and his voice had become slightly less gravelly. He dressed in a clean pillow case, hemmed at the shoulders and legs to mimic clothing. The only odd things about his appearance were the charmed leather shin and arm guards he wore, not to mention the charmed armor hidden beneath his pillow case to protect his body. House-elves, Harry had discovered, were some of the best defenders a person could ask for; yet it seemed Harry was the only one to have realized this.

In just a second, Dobby too popped into sight. "Hello, Harry Potter!"

Harry grinned. "Hi, Dobby. How are you two?"

"Fine, Master," Kreacher answered.

"Very good, Harry Potter," replied Dobby. "What can Dobby help with?"

"First, let me tell you both that I am no longer wallowing in unhappiness and self-blame. Happy, Dobby?" The house-elf in question shook his head vigorously, opening his mouth to speak. Before he could start, however, Harry continued, "I have a new assignment. He's a bit different that the last one. This time, I'm to protect the Dark Lord of Britain, Voldemort…. I understand if neither of you want to work with me on this, so please tell me if you have any qualms about it…" Harry paused, letting the information sink in.

"Dobby will always help Harry Potter, no matter what."

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry acknowledged gratefully. "…Kreacher?" The other house-elf stared at the wall behind Harry's head stonily, so Harry said, "It's fine if you don't want to help. I more than understand." After all, Voldemort had poisoned the elf, left him to die, and basically caused Regulus's death.

Finally, Kreacher replied, looking directly at Harry. "Master Potter has been good to Kreacher…. Of course Kreacher will aid you." His gaze again averted to the floor.

Harry released a sigh of relief that he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Thank you, Kreacher. I really appreciate it…. Now," he said, clapping his hands together. "Dobby, may I have some orange juice and a slice of bread, please?"

"Harry Potter is not wanting more?" Dobby looked at him disapprovingly.

"I used the International Floo Network to get here. The IFN makes me sick, so I'd rather take it easy on my stomach by eating less." Harry explained. Dobby nodded and vanished.

"Kreacher, how is Fang?"

"Kreacher is taking good care of the snake."

"Good. Bring him here. You might want to sedate him first; I don't want him to bite you."

"Yes, Master." Then Kreacher too vanished.

Left with a brief moment to himself, Harry reached out with his magic. The Dark Lord was the only other wizard on the premises, but the younger wizard could vaguely detect several magical creatures on the castle grounds. He'd have to try to remember to ask Voldemort if he knew what they were. Harry wondered if he still had Nagini.

Dobby popped into sight, placing the glass of orange juice and a small plate with a slice of bread on it on a table in the small kitchen of the suite Voldemort had given Harry. He noticed that the glass and place came from his Spanish residence, absently realizing that house-elves could apparate internationally.

"Thanks, Dobby."

"It is no problem, Harry Potter."

Harry sat down, took a sip of juice, and picked up the slice of bread, but just as he was about to take a bite, Kreacher came back.

"Here is the snake, Master Potter."

"Thank you, Kreacher." Harry looked at Fang. He seemed to be in good condition, despite being fairly dazed from Kreacher's calming spell. "_Come here, Fang_," Harry hissed to the snake, stretching out his left arm. Sluggishly, Fang slithered up the man's hand and coiled around his bicep, basking in the heat of the wizard's skin. Harry pulled out his wand and cast a minor shield charm on Fang to protect him from being hurt if anyone bumped into Harry, tried to grab his arm in a fight, or did any such thing.

Harry took a bite of bread after putting his wand away. "All right," he began. "Dobby, keep track of Voldemort and let me know when he changes location. It's important that I know where he is. Kreacher, you help monitor the grounds and castle. When you two can, I'd like you both to stay near Voldemort and watch the perimeter. Stay hidden. You've done this before; you know what to do. Am I clear?"

Both nodded and apparated away, probably to set up there individual magics, whatever they were. Though they both liked Harry, they refused to explain house-elf magic to him. It seemed to be the one thing they would ever deny him.

The wizard's stomach grumbled, but just as he reached for the bread, Voldemort's magic disappeared from his senses. He swore beneath his breath, quickly getting to his feet and striding out of the kitchen. He threw open the door and ran down the hallway and several flights of staircases. Finally he found himself in the atrium, standing before the fireplace. Dobby appeared next to him, saying, "The bad man went to the Ministry of Magic."

_At least it's not somewhere random, like Albania_, Harry thought, before casting "_Incendio!_" to start a fire. He grabbed a handful of Floo powder from an ornate golden bowl on a granite pedestal and threw the powder into the fireplace. After stepping into the green flames, he made sure to speak clearly. "Ministry of Magic."

He stumbled out of the fireplace and into the Atrium as fast as he could, looking frantically for Voldemort. _What an idiot to try and give me the slip_, he thought, annoyed. _Stupid Dark Lords and their power plays. He's probably testing me right now… There he is! _It was easy to spot Voldemort as he strode down the hallway towards his office. As Harry watched him create a path through the crowd, it reminded him of the parting of the Red Sea. No one could possibly miss the way every single person seemed to veer away from the wizard.

Harry stalked in the wake of Voldemort's passing, watching the people of the crowd stare after their Dark Lord. _He's not really a Dark Lord. He's just a stupid, attention loving drama queen_, Harry thought peevishly. Suddenly, one of the people caught his eye. A plump wizard with thin brown hair had pulled out his wand and pointed it at Voldemort. "_Stupefy_!" Harry said before the wizard could cast anything. The unconscious man fell backwards into another person, who let out a yelp of surprise.

A witch came up to Harry, pointing her finger at his chest. She flashed an Auror badge in his face. "I saw that! You can't just go around stunning people! I'm pl-" She stopped when Harry flashed his own badge, a lovely little gift from Hermione.

"That man tried to cast something on the Dark Lord. Go interrogate him or something. I have to go," he ended the exchange, jogging to catch up to Voldemort.

Two other people tried to attack Voldemort during that brief walk down the corridor to the Dark Lord's office. Dobby took out one, and Harry took out the other, finding out how to contact the Auror assigned to interrogating Voldemort's assailants in the process. The Auror in question happened to be none other than Bellatrix Lestrange. How Bellatrix became an Auror, Harry did not want to know.

By the time they were inside Voldemort's office, Harry was fairly upset. Once the door was closed, he cast some temporary defenses around the office, then turned to Voldemort. "You must be really unpopular to be attacked three times in just a walk down the hallway."

"Only three times? I'm surprised," he drawled, not looking up from the paperwork on his desk.

"'Only three times' he says," Harry muttered. _I wish I could have at least finished that bread. I'm actually kind of hungry now. _"You and I need to talk. Next time, you need to let me know when you're leaving. None of this 'accidentally ditching your bodyguard' crap. You aren't a child."

"Watch yourself, Potter." Red eyes flashed angrily in warning.

Harry continued. "Anyway, I need to know the layout of your castle. What's its name anyway? Also, do you know what magical creatures are on the grounds? I would ask you about the public's opinion of you, but the answer was pretty clear earlier, so I won't even go there…. What's the deal with Hermione, anyway?"

"Here are the blueprints to Conexus Castle," Voldemort told him. Harry walked over to the desk and took a folded piece of parchment from Voldemort. "The password to read the blueprints is in Parseltongue. It is: _No good or evil, only power._ Be quiet and study them for now. I have work to do."

Harry walked to the side of the room, in a good position to see the door but not be hit immediately if someone decided to rush in casting hexes and the like. After studying the blueprints for an hour or so, he was fairly certain he had them memorized. Now he had nothing to do, except to stand there and stay alert. This part was the boring part, but it came with the job and there was nothing he could do about it.

Being in the same room as Voldemort, especially when he wasn't trying to kill the Chosen One, was a strange experience, Harry thought. The silence was actually somewhat awkward, for him at least, but something about his thoughts seemed… clearer. Sort of calmer and less frantic. It was nice. _It's probably part of the Horcrux_, Harry thought. _Must be happy or something to be so close to the rest of its soul. _

"Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"You know better than to address me as such," the man responded coldly.

"No, _Voldemort, _I am not addressing you as 'sir' or 'my Lord'. I don't need to be here, and I refuse to act like one of your groveling worshipers. I expect respect just as much as-"

"_Silencio._"

Harry blocked the spell and scowled. "Don't give me that! I'm not the same boy you fought eight years ago. I'm serious. You're not just my employer; you're my parents' murderer, the madman who helped screw up my life since I was one. I don't care what titles you want me to address you as-"

"_Crucio._"

Harry stepped out of the way of the curse. "You know, I think you could benefit a bit from this," Harry stated calmly. "Calling you by your name, Voldemort -and be grateful I'm not calling you Tom- I think it'll help you in the long term. We wouldn't want you to be overconfident, now would we? It would be terrible if you thought you were so invincible that you underestimated your opponents."

"Potter, cease your endless chatter."

"No, I don't think I will. See, I'd like to know what's going on. I'd like to -_Stupefy_," he suddenly cast at the seemingly closed door. A thump sounded from the direction of his spell. "I'd like to Stupefy the stupid git who thought he could just waltz in here and interrupt our little chat."

Harry nullified the disillusioning charm the unconscious wizard had cast on himself to sneak in while Voldemort observed silently. Harry cast a suspended sleeping charm on the wizard, who was a tall, nondescript middle-aged man. He pulled out his badge and looked at it, saying "Bellatrix Lestrange." The witch in question appeared in the silver metal, and Harry smothered a scowl. "I've got another one in the Dark Lord's office."

The woman rolled her eyes, saying, "Even I'm growing tired of these pesky pests. I'll be there in just a moment." She disappeared from view.

Harry inspected the defensive spell the man had triggered. Satisfied it was intact, he looked down and prodded the wizard with his toe, rolling the man onto his back. He cast some detection charms to make sure the man had no defenses that could hurt him, then knelt down and proceeded to go through the man's pockets. He found nothing other than a chocolate frog card and the man's wand. He pulled out both, but before he could examine them, Bellatrix walked in, almost tripping on the unconscious wizard.

"Silly man, to think you could sneak up on the Dark Lord. Naughty, naughty," she laughed, looking down at the man. Harry stood up, trying not to look too disgruntled by Sirius's killer. Now was not the time to think of past hurts. She looked at the wand and card expectantly, so Harry handed them to her. "I'll take my leave," she said, casting _Mobilus Corpus _on the wizard and stepping out the door.

"Wait," said Harry. "Have you found out why any of the others attacked the Dark Lord?"

"Not yet, but I'll be sure to let you know. Ta ta!"

Harry shut the door, looking pointedly at Voldemort. "Wow, four attackers in one day. What in Merlin's name have you done to make them hate you so much?"

The man ignored his question, staring at the bodyguard expressionlessly. "You said you had some questions."

Harry walked back to the place on the wall where he'd been leaning. "Yes, let's see… Well, actually, can you tell me anything about the Horcrux that's stuck in my head? Can I get rid of it?"

The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Relax, I'm not trying to destroy your precious Horcrux," Harry said hastily. "It's just -I have a part of someone else's soul in my head. It's weird. And creepy," he said frankly. "It hasn't done anything to me yet, but I'd like to get rid of it. Plus, I'm human. My body is inevitably going to die one day, and when my body dies, so does the Horcrux. So… it would be beneficial to both of us to remove the Horcrux from me, maybe transfer it to an object or something."

"I see your point," responded Voldemort thoughtfully. He raised his hand to his face, index fingers touching his lips. "As of now, there has never been a human vessel for a Horcrux that I am aware of. Yet Nagini is just as alive as you are, and she has been as immortal as myself…. There is a strong possibility, Potter, that like Nagini, you may be unable to die. However, I will look into it."

Harry swallowed. _Wonderful_, he though unhappily. Before he could process this lovely little morsel of information, a body appeared on the ground in front of him.

"Bloody hell," the younger man grumbled. It was an unconscious witch this time, a gift from Dobby. Harry summoned Bellatrix again.

"House-elf magic?" inquired Voldemort while they waited for Lestrange.

"Yes. I suppose I'll have to introduce you to them after Bellatrix takes this witch away."

After Bellatrix left with the fifth attacker, Harry called for Dobby and Kreacher, who both appeared instantaneously. Voldemort watched expressionlessly.

"Voldemort, this is Dobby and Kreacher. They're helping to guard you. Dobby, was that you who caught the witch?"

"Yes, Harry Potter. She was trying to walk through the wall into this room, she was. She wanted to hurt the bad wizard," Dobby said, eyes glancing at the ground by Voldemort's desk.

The Dark Lord's lips tightened into a thin line. "Hurt him," Harry warned, "And I'll make your life hell for as long as I live." _Which could be forever, apparently._

"Attempt to do so, and you'll find yourself spending the rest of your life with the Dementors."

"You keep think-" Harry began to retort, but was interrupted by Kreacher.

"Master, the door."

Harry looked at the door in question just in time to see it fly open in a burst of blinding light. He couldn't see anything, but he could hear several pairs of feet pounding across the floor. He cast an advanced protective shield where he instinctively knew Voldemort was, and summoned a physical stone wall to separate his, the elves' and Voldemort's side of the room from the other half, where he could still hear several other people running in.

His vision spotty, he was still able to see one witch running at himself while two wizards attempted to batter their way through the shield he'd cast on Voldemort. "Dobby, take care of the witch. Kreacher, see what you can do about the other half of the room," he ordered, then dodged the witch's curse and began attacking the two wizards.

Spells and curses were flying everywhere. _Booms _and _bangs_ blasted Harry's ears, and stone and granite crumbled from the ceiling. Still, as Harry dodged and cursed and ran and punched, Voldemort sat in his chair, serenely still, simply observing the chaos.

As a dust-covered Harry stood panting in the aftermath, five bodies laying unconscious on the ground (or possibly dead, but Harry would rather not think about that), he glowered at Voldemort, who was smirking all too smugly. _Damn bastard_, thought Harry. Kreacher and Dobby noticed the anger growing on Harry's face and quickly disappeared from sight.

"You planned all this, didn't you!" Harry shouted. "This was all a bloody test, wasn't it! What do you think you're playing at, you… you stupid egomaniac!"

"Congratulations, Potter, you passed."

"I hate you! I fucking hate you. Just wait till you really need protection. Ever heard of the boy who cried wolf? Yeah, next time, when this is real, I'm just going to stand and watch as you get ripped to pieces. Then I'll laugh. A lot. Maybe even help the bad guys a little. And then, when you become that helpless specter all over again-"

"My -what in the name of Merlin is going on here!" shouted Hermione's voice. Harry turned towards her, squinting to see past the smoke and through the gaping hole in the stone wall that separated the room. "Never mind," she said, shaking her head. "My Lord, we have a problem. Again."

~HP~

*Thanks to _Tonks-is-cool _for clearing up Regulus's death.

Please do not favorite me or this story without leaving a review.

AN: Tell me what you think. Just click those blue underlined words, the ones that say "Review this chapter" and type something. Anything. If you don't even want to think of what to write, here are some ideas:

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	4. Brilliant

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its affiliates. *Insert witty comment here.*

A/N: Sweet freedom! I just finished school, so I wrote this chapter in celebration... So, any idea what genre this should be? Go check out my profile and vote on the poll I made. Anyway, there's another A/N at the bottom of this chapter w/a lot of answers to reviews, so this chapter isn't quite as long as it appears.

Also, forgive me if I make any mistakes about London and its suburbs (mainly Epping Forest). I've only been to London once, and when I found I needed space in the story, I researched forests in/near London, and Epping Forest was one of them. Let me know if I'm completely wrong.

~HP~

"Dragons are attacking London," Hermione informed Voldemort grimly. _Brilliant_, Harry thought, his anger suddenly draining away, leaving only grudging acceptance.

"We estimate there are ten of them," continued Hermione. "Public Relations is trying to move as many people to safety as possible. The Unspeakables have managed to seal off the city, and my department has shrouded it from the Muggle public eye, but I'm not sure how long we'll be able to maintain it. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was barely able to subdue one of them; it killed Macnair and knocked out two other wizards. As of now, it's unconscious.

"I've thought of performing a stasis spell, but I don't know any powerful enough to contain such a large area with so many people in it. Not to mention the dragons' resistance to magic. I can't think of any quick solution... They're destroying the city," Hermione said, lips tightened into a nearly nonexistent line.

Harry watched skeptically, fighting the urge to demand that they leave the Ministry and help _now_. Logically, he knew they needed to understand the situation further to be able to help the most, but emotionally… Well, he would try to stay quiet for now. _Besides, for all I know this is another test. If it is, I won't just _let_ him get killed; I'll bloody well do it myself_, Harry thought peevishly.

Voldemort remained at his desk, steepling his hands as he looked at Hermione. "The Minister and the Aurors?"

"The Minister is trying to control the press, and the Aurors are investigating how the dragons got here. They aren't native…" Hermione's head jerked suddenly. "I need to go. My department's running low on energy."

"Take one of the power stones if you must. Dismissed."

Hermione nodded quickly and took off at a run, slamming the door behind her.

Absently, Harry wondered, _If there's a Minister, what exactly is Voldemort? _More importantly, Harry really wanted to go outside and help, but he felt he wouldn't be much help by himself, and Voldemort probably would try to stop him if he did try to leave. Then neither of them would be of any use. And in all honesty, Harry was curious to see how this mostly sane Voldemort handled the situation. _After all, it's not like the Dark Lord can Crucio dragons into submission... I think._

After staring into space for a brief moment, Voldemort abruptly stood up, his jaw set. He walked over to the wall and cast a powerful _Finite Incantem_, revealing a large oak wardrobe. When he opened it, Harry saw that it was filled with shelves and cabinets packed with magical artifacts, with one long cabinet dividing the wardrobe into two sides. In that cabinet was a crystal ball set on a podium. Voldemort placed his fingertips on the sides of it. "London," he demanded, and Harry watched as the globe burst into color.

The Dark Lord glanced sharply at Harry as the bodyguard walked over to watch, but he quickly turned back to observing the globe intently. The scene unfolding before their eyes was disturbing. Fires littered the city, and Muggles and wizards alike ran around terrified, fleeing burning buildings, jumping into the Thames, and searching for cover in the Tube. Dragons circled the city and stalked the streets, destroying homes, setting fires, and terrorizing the people. Three were flying over the suburbs. Harry clenched his teeth. Some of the dragons were eating.

"They're not attacking each other," Harry realized aloud.

"Obviously," Voldemort muttered, not even bothering to look at the other man.

"That means they're part of a pod," Harry continued, an idea quickly forming. Voldemort flicked his eyes toward him, raising an inquiring eyebrow. "I spent a year learning about dragons," Harry explained. "Since they're part of a pod, they'll be protective of each other. We might be able to use that to get them all in one place."

Voldemort turned back to look at the miniature city, not choosing to comment on Harry's use of the word "we". Looking thoughtfully at the tiny dragons, he pointed to one standing on the roof of Parliament. "This one is much smaller than the others. Dragons are especially protective of their young…"

"True, but if I'm correct, these are Romanian Longhorns. That one's the wrong shade of green, and its horn is too long to belong to a calf. It's probably just stunted. The rest of the pod won't care too much for it." Spying a larger dragon, Harry was hopeful to see that it was a very light shade of green with a stub of a horn. It limped across a clearing of Epping Forest; judging from the blood, it looked like it had been shot at. A piece of torn, bloody fabric hung from its closed mouth. Harry grimaced. "This one, though," he started, pointing at it. "This one's perfect. If we can contain it and get it to call for help, the others will come. I don't know what we'd be able to do from there -unless you can get a group of dragon keepers to help."

"Is there a spell to imitate a dragon's distress call that we could use instead?" Voldemort sounded neither respectful nor condescending, Harry noticed. He sounded calmly urgent, as if it didn't matter that he was talking to Harry Potter, the constant thorn in his side, as if what mattered was getting the job done. It was unexpected.

"Yes," answered Harry. "But it doesn't work. Somehow the dragons know that it's fake."

"Very well. Have you learned how to contain them?"

"I think… no, that won't work with so many… Not by myself." Harry pursed his lips. He couldn't think of anything, so he shrugged, shaking his head.

Voldemort nodded. He used his wand to tap the button at the top of his robes and began speaking into it. "Nott, the Aurors need to patrol the Ministry. This may be a diversion. You may leave one or two to investigate. All of you, ask your department if anyone has prior experience working with dragons. I will keep the connection open for updates." Voldemort looked at Harry inscrutably, then walked past him to open a door that Harry _knew_ hadn't been there a second ago. The bodyguard followed him in, discovering a short hallway with a couple closed doors that led to a small library. Voldemort turned to Harry and gestured toward a shelf containing books on magical creatures. "Research." Then he threw some Floo powder into the fireplace, speaking softly, and stuck his head in.

The movement of coils around his arm and a small hiss by his throat drew Harry's attention. "_Harry?_" asked Fang.

"_Fang. I expected you to speak sooner._"

"_After the elf made me drowsy, I fell asleep. When I woke up, something hit me on the head, and I fell asleep again._"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "_I'm sorry. I got in a fight earlier; you must have gotten hurt then. Are you all right now?_"

"_Yes. Are you?_"

"_I'm fine_," He glanced over at Voldemort then looked back at the snake peeping out from beneath his collar. "_But I have to deal with some problems right now. I probably won't have much time to talk._"

"_Then I will leave you alone._" Fang told him, before curling back tightly around his arm.

Harry sighed, turning to the books.

~HP~

Voldemort had tried to reach several different sources, but he had only been able to reach a single cryptid healer. She promised to meet them as soon as she could. Apparently she couldn't meet them right away because she was performing a difficult surgery on a zoo's chimera. Time was of the essence, so Harry and Voldemort planned to subdue the injured dragon on their own. For some reason that Harry really didn't want to know, Voldemort knew how to freeze a sea serpent in place, and he theorized that it would work well enough on an injured dragon.

The two left the Ministry and apparated to Epping Forest, using a _Point Me _to track the dragon from there. They walked through the forest quietly, except for crunching of leaves beneath their feet and the brief moments when Voldemort would speak into the button of his robes. As they walked, Harry surveyed the damage. A bloody, charred stench clung to the air, and he could hear muted cries in the distance. The area around them wasn't particularly dense, so the dragon had ploughed right through it, leaving an easily identifiable trail of crushed vegetation and blood to follow; there really was no need for the _Point Me _at all.

After a few moments, Harry broke the silence. "You know, one of my old… acquaintances was a dragon keeper. Did you try the reserve in Romania?"

"Their floo was completely disconnected…." Voldemort eyed Harry, his face betraying no emotion. "Your 'acquaintance' was a Weasley, am I correct? Part of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Harry wasn't sure how to respond. He was afraid that if he agreed, he'd put Charlie in danger somehow. His silence was seemingly answer enough, as, watching Harry carefully, Voldemort continued, "The last remnants of the Order may very well be responsible for this."

Harry grimaced, not knowing what to think. "Why? They would never put so many people in danger, even if they _were_ trying to create a diversion. It must be someone else."

"Besides trying to weaken my administration, they've been trying to expose our world to the Muggles. They seem to think the Muggles have a right to know, or that they will be useful allies, or some other idiotic thing similar to that. They've tried exposing magic to large crowds, on national television, anything they can think of, but we've managed to cover it up…. I admit to being surprised they've gone to these lengths. Perhaps they thought they had control of the dragons and no one would be hurt. Whatever the case may be, however, they must be stopped."

Harry listened silently, still not knowing what to think. He didn't want to believe the people he'd previously thought of as friends and family were capable of setting wild dragons on London. He didn't want to believe that Voldemort actually cared about other people. _ He probably doesn't care,_ Harry thought. _He's probably just worried about the bad publicity._ Before he could ponder it anymore, however, his thoughts were interrupted by an earth-shattering _**BOOM**_! Another _**BOOM **_resounded from just a short distance away. _Merlin's balls, that does _not_ sound good_, he thought as he started running towards the source. Even Voldemort broke into a jog.

They reached the edge of a great clearing. With a large lake in the center, it would have been peaceful, had blood, bone shards, scales, and guts not been scattered across the foliage and rippling water. Just a few yards away from them was a large metal monstrosity. _A tank_, Harry's memory provided him. _Fu_-

"Down!" Harry hissed, casting a wandless disillusioning charm on the both of them and tugging Voldemort down with him to crouch behind the bushes. He watched as Muggle soldiers stepped into sight to study the dragon's remains, worried they'd have heat-seeking devices or some other Muggle contraption that could detect him and Voldemort. He didn't know what the Muggles would do if they found two oddly dressed, invisible men hiding in the forest, especially after seeing what they did to the dragon.

"They will die," Voldemort murmured quietly.

Harry breathed out slowly, trying to tamp down his irritation and trying to figure out how to appeal to Voldemort. "No, they won't," Harry said quietly. Seeing the Dark Lord's look of rage, presumably because of Harry's seeming disrespect, he rushed on, "We don't have the time or the energy to waste killing them. Besides, it's too dangerous. There are too many of them, and you saw what they did to the dragon. That's not even half of what they're capable of."

Voldemort quirked an eyebrow. "The danger prone Chosen One is lecturing the Dark Lord about his safety. I never imagined I'd see the day…" he mused, his lips momentarily twitching upwards.

Whatever was wrong with Voldemort right now, Harry decided to roll with it. "The Dark Lord actually has a sense of humor. I never imagined I'd see the day," he echoed back, smirking. _Sweet Merlin_, _I've woken up in an alternate universe.  
_

Suddenly, Harry heard quick footsteps from behind them. He and Voldemort whirled around as best they could while staying crouched by the bushes, _Protego _ on the tip of Harry's tongue.

"Thank Merlin, I've finally found you!" The person, a short, skinny brunette woman, panted. "Maggie Cross, at your service, my Lord." She didn't seem to know exactly where to look.

Harry glanced at Voldemort, hissing in Parseltongue, "_Safe?_"

The man nodded, and Harry dropped the disillusionment charm as he and Voldemort stood up from their crouch. Voldemort gestured for them to back up further into the cover of the woods. Once out of the Muggles' sight, Maggie faced Voldemort expectantly. The man flicked his wand at both Harry, Maggie, and himself. Harry was startled to find himself not blocking Voldemort's spell reflexively. Accepting the Horcrux as part of himself had affected him more than he previously thought, if it made him trust his parents' killer so easily. Resisting the urge to frown, he watched curiously as their robes turned into formal muggle business clothes. "In case the Muggles discover us," Voldemort explained. "Now, tell me how you've determined to subdue the nine dragons, Cross."

The woman blinked, before visibly shaking herself and pulling a cloth bag out from one of her pants pocket. Out of that bag she pulled a long, metal object. _A rifle_, Harry's memory supplied. "Some of my colleagues and I decided to create this. It's meant to knock out big game from a distance. Now, it _is_ a prototype, and it's designed to take out nundus, not dragons, but I increased the amount of sedative potion in the darts, so it should be enough at least to make the dragons more manageable." She looked in the direction of the clearing, contemplating. "We got the idea from the Muggles, actually…" Her voice turned business-like again. "If you can get me in the air, I can take the dragons out fairly quickly. The Muggles might be a problem, though. I'd really rather not get shot at."

Voldemort nodded slightly. "Apparate to Parliament. We'll take care of the Muggles there."

It was rather anticlimactic after that, Harry later thought. He had honestly expected he'd have to fight a dragon again. Instead, after they went to Parliament, Voldemort placed the Prime Minister under the Imperius curse and ordered him to call off the military and to give Cross a helicopter and the best pilot they had. As Cross flew all over London and its suburbs, Harry and Voldemort tracked her, making sure she didn't run into any trouble. Once, a dragon decided to attack the helicopter. Before it could, though, Voldemort cast a strong disorienting spell on it, which lasted long enough for Cross to shoot it.

"I don't really see you as the environmentalist type. Why don't you want to kill the dragons? It would definitely be easier." Harry asked as they trailed Cross invisibly, Harry flying on his conjured broomstick and Voldemort floating along beside him (because apparently flying by broomstick wasn't dignified enough for Dark Lords; they had to float instead).

"There are few dragons left in the world. Too many potions and other supplies use ingredients from them. To lose ten would be disastrous for their population, and therefore disastrous to the economy and the people's morale."

"Ah," murmured Harry, observing Cross as she shot the last dragon. He blinked and turned to Voldemort, feeling oddly drained. Now that he thought about it, he'd only had a bite of bread for breakfast, and that had been many hours ago. "Hungry?" he couldn't help but ask.

~HP~

Now that the dragons were thoroughly unconscious, Voldemort enlisted the help of available wizards and witches from the Ministry to move the dragons to a convenient magical research center in Epping Forest. Before he gave the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures the task of finding the dragons their proper home, he ordered them and one of the Aurors to investigate the creatures' sleeping bodies.

Harry himself joined the investigation. Every dragon from a reserve was supposed to have a Blue Chip, a small magical crystal filled with information recorded by the reserve, embedded in the ankle of the animal's right leg, but Harry was unhappy to discover that each and every dragon was missing theirs. As he was informing Voldemort of this, a young female member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and the investigating Auror walked up to them. "Yes, Madley? Bletchley?" asked the Dark Lord.

The woman spoke first. Harry vaguely recognized her, probably from Hogwarts. "My Lord, the dragons are in excellent health, and all of them have been well fed. They've been so well fed, in fact, that I'm surprised they went on such a rampage. Even with the shock of finding themselves in a completely different environment, they had so much food, to the point of over eating, actually, that they should have been compelled to sleep it off. Bletchley has a good theory, though," she said, nodding to the Auror.

He nodded and said, "I checked for residue from the spells cast on them, and it looks like several of them were hit by strong shocking spells just before the time of their attack."

"I imagine, also," began Madley again, "That they were separated when they arrived. That would have upset them even more."

"I see," Voldemort said. "Bletchley, search the city for the sites where they first arrived. Madley, continue investigating. We are unsure when exactly the sedative will wear off, so take no more than fifteen minutes. Dismissed."

Voldemort walked over to one of the caged dragons, Harry following slightly behind him. The older wizard circled the dragon, murmuring and waving his wand in several intricate patterns. After a moment, he eyed Harry assessingly. "What disturbs me most is that there is no residue indicating how the dragons arrived here. Any ideas, Frost?"

The man's tone somehow reminded Harry of how Snape spoke to him in his first year at Hogwarts. He felt compelled to answer, "I don't know, sir."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Come now, surely you must have some idea. Difficult you may be, but I had hoped you possessed some level of intelligence."

Harry clenched his teeth at the silky tone. He paused, thinking. Suddenly an image of Maggie Cross's magical rifle flashed before his eyes. "Perhaps… they arrived by Muggle means?"

Voldemort nodded, a pleased smirk appearing on his face for a miniscule second before disappearing completely. He spoke into the top button of his cloak again. "Granger, I need you to gather a small team of trusted Muggleborns. Investigate any possible Muggle means of transporting a dragon." A moment of silence as she replied. "Yes… No, finish what you're doing first…" Abruptly Voldemort's eyebrows furrowed slightly, something in his eyes hardening. "That is... most unfortunate, Rookwood… Granger, on second thought, before you investigate, meet me in my office. Five minutes." His cold voice brokered no argument. Harry suddenly felt worried for his old friend.

~HP~

Once in his office, Harry inquired, "Do you know… exactly, who's part of the Order now?"

Voldemort refused to answer at first, regarding Harry coldly. Harry felt some inexplicable tension in the air. He opened his magical senses, only to force them closed as he felt the Dark Lord's magic pulsing viciously throughout the room. "Someone's not happy," Harry observed.

Tension left the other man's shoulders almost imperceptibly as he released a quiet, airy snort. "Only you, Potter."

"Hmph," Harry leaned his head on the wall, staring up at the ceiling. _Someone needs to treat him like he's actually human. _

A knock at the door interrupted the oddly peaceful moment, and Voldemort leaned back in his chair, oozing a false sense of pleased arrogance. He looked almost lazy, but Harry could detect his magic roiling beneath his steely control. "Come in," he ordered nonchalantly.

"My Lord," Hermione said, nodding her head. Harry really wished she would stop calling him that. It was rather disgusting. At least she wasn't kneeling on the ground and kissing his robes. _Ew._

"I am pleased with how your department has continued to block the Muggles' publicity. Have there been any difficulties?"

Hermione paused. She obviously could tell something was wrong. She answered carefully, "Not really. There aren't many of us, so some of the members are showing small signs of magical exhaustion, but the power stone has really helped. We'll be able to maintain our spells until the Obliviators have finished… We're considering telling the Muggles the damage was caused by an unusual earthquake." She stopped as she saw Voldemort's deceptively calm expression.

"You seem very fond of that power stone. Tell me, was that the only power stone you took?"

Hermione swallowed. "Yes, that was the only one I used."

"Then why, pray tell, are there two missing?"

Hermione froze, raising her eyebrows as she shot a glance at Harry. Eyes widening, she looked at the floor. "I don't know, my Lord," she replied, her voice firm.

"Well, you'll have to forgive me, Granger," he started saccharinely. "But I must take all the necessary precautions. I'm sending you and all those who were in the Ministry during my absence in for interrogation. Your services have been invaluable, and for that you shall be rewarded. You won't be tortured, at first. Know that I expect nothing less than your full cooperation." The unsaid _or else_ hovered in the air between them.

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Yes, sir." Meeting Voldemort's eyes, she added rebelliously, "I have nothing to hide."

The Dark Lord eyed her expressionlessly (a look he seemed to use quite frequently), before finally nodding. "Begin investigating the Muggles. Expect to be called in for the interrogation within the next two days."

Something in Hermione's eyes flickered before she visibly relaxed ever so slightly. "Thank you…, sir." And with that, she whirled around and stalked out of the room, head held high.

Harry watched quizzically as she closed the door before turning to Voldemort, frowning. He couldn't help but say, "I don't think she did it."

Voldemort glared at Harry. "No one asked for your opinion, Potter."

"No," Harry quipped, "But I chose to give it anyway."

Voldemort seemed to be resisting the urge to roll his eyes, or at least that's what Harry thought. _Rolling your eyes is probably too lowly a habit for Dark Lords_. After a moment, Voldemort responded, "I don't think she did it, either." He began speaking into the button of his robes again. "Nott, tell Davis to start investigating any wizards or witches who were left in the Ministry during the dragon attack. She needs to find out if any of them stole a power stone… Good."

Voldemort looked back up at Harry, who was still standing a good ten feet away, leaning against the wall. "It appears the dragons were a diversion, after all. Or perhaps the Order was hoping to accomplish two tasks at once by revealing the magical world and stealing the stone."

"Are you sure it's the Order? I mean, it sounds like these power stones are pretty powerful. Can anyone use them?"

"Anyone can use them, but they can only be retrieved with my permission. Unless someone was strong enough to break the enchantments on them, which I highly doubt. Still, I will have to look at them myself to know."

"What are they, anyway?" Harry asked. "Just stones filled with magical power? Are they used as supplements for spells? I haven't heard of them before."

"That's because I created them. There have been several inventions like them, but each of those can only be used for a specific purpose. I've modified these so that they can be used for any purpose without limitations. I've stored so much energy in some of them that they have the energy of a hundred wizards."

"It seems like they're awfully dangerous, especially when your enemies get a hold of them."

"True, but theoretically, they can only be used with my permission."

"Hmm…" murmured Harry. Speaking louder, he said, "So dragons attacked London, which isn't too unusual apparently, and they may or may not be a diversion possibly caused by the new Order of the Phoenix or someone else of questionable nature, and/or they may be a device used to expose the magical world to Muggles caused by the Order of the Phoenix or someone else, and an incredibly powerful object that may or may not be usable has been stolen from the Ministry of Magic." _And you may or may not suffer from extremely terrifying and dangerous psychotic episodes that I apparently have to prevent. _

Voldemort nodded, eying Harry bemusedly.

"Brilliant," Harry groaned.

~HP~

Please do not favorite this story or favorite me as an author without leaving a review.

A/N: Seriously guys, your reviews have kept me going, and they've made me smile so much! Thank you to those of you who reviewed. **Reviewing makes me write faster!**

To answer questions before they're asked: Harry's not so "grr! I hate you!" to Voldemort in this chapter because he's already pretty tired from the fight, and he's hardly had anything to eat. Not to mention that his whole situation is very bemusing. Yes, Voldemort does have psychotic episodes, but you won't see many because Harry's almost always around him. Because Harry has that little Horcrux in him, his presence calms Voldemort down just enough for Voldemort not to destroy the world… though they may beat the crap out of each other in the future because that's just how they are. And when Harry's not with him… well, that's a different story. As for the whole 'pod' thing with the dragons, I took that from my knowledge of orca whales. And I know you probably wanted to see more action, but let's be honest. Voldemort doesn't like to get his hands dirty if he has someone else to do it for him.

I'm iffy about this chapter. There were a couple parts where I was like "YES!" and there were many parts where I was like "meh... ew."

Anyway, review answers going all the way back to ch.1:

_Kasia_: I believe I said Harry was average looking. He's under a glamour with dull brown hair, and I _think _he has pale blue eyes, but I'll have to check (or you could go back and check yourself).

_spoonring_: "

_Redheads r smexy_: Lol Thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. And I looked up Fang, and he's a boarhound. I'll have to go back and change that. Thanks for pointing it out!

_Azure1996_: I'm glad you like it. I'm honestly not sure if there's going to be any romance, but I sincerely doubt it. The characters are pretty much writing the story for me, so I guess we'll just have to see.

_Setsuna-X_: "

_Amylion_: "

_Dragonist_: I stole 'zoinks' from Scooby Doo… heh.

_Professor-Evans_: Voldemort got most of his soul back, so he's a good deal more sane now. And let's face it, Hermione is incredibly useful, but she doesn't have the ambition to be the leader of everyone, so for Voldemort, she's a great tool. And yes, Hermione knows it's Voldemort, but remember, she lost her memories past 3rd year, which means she never met Voldemort face to face, and being the manipulative bastard he is, he easily swayed her to his side, (especially if he waved some rare, one of a kind books in her face, and some silly reforms that he didn't matter to him). Remember, though Volemort's all about blood supremacy, what he really cares about is power, and Hermione has it in spades.

_misto-713_: I'm not too sure about Bellatrix. I figured that now that she's had 8 years to calm the f down, she'd be at least a bit saner. Plus, she doesn't know who Harry is.

_Metal.v2_: Don't worry, I hate angst. The story might need a touch of it just to give it a tangy flavor (Yes, I'm comparing this to food), but I just can't do angst too much.

_Tonks-is-cool_: To be honest, "Syndicate" Castle just sort of came out of my head, and I decided to use it because of Vold's old Death Eater organization and they new way he's closely knit the Ministry together. If it helps, you can think it's really called Conexus Castle. "Conexus" is Latin for syndicate, so we'll just say Voldemort translated it to English. Thanks for the corrections by the way; I forget if I fixed them or not so I'll have to go back and check.

_Balos_: Haha, I loved your "inner child" comment. Just sayin.

_awertvegtr_: I already responded to this, but I'd like to thank you again. I think I'll probably go back and edit chapter 1 some more now that I have time. And Harry chose "Charles Frost", an obviously English name, because he has an obviously English accent. I know Harry's awesome, and he _wa_s able to mimic the Bloody Baron in his 1st year, but I don't think he could sound Spanish all the time, and people would probably be suspicious of him if he sounded English but tried to pass himself off as Spanish citizen Julio Arguello or something like that.

_Isabelle-Eir_: Hermione remembers her friendship with Harry up until 3rd year.

_Glaive_: "

_Celebwen Telcontar_: Hermione's not a Death Eater. She works in the Ministry. In this story, there's a difference. Don't forget the memory loss and the 8 years Voldemort had to manipulate her.

_history_: Yes, Voldemort isn't insane all the time because now he has more of his soul. But he still doesn't have it all, so he has psychotic episodes.

_diesedame: _Yeah, in chapter 1 Harry was a bit 'nyeh' in the fight. Harry never did well traveling by Floo, and since he used the IFN, he was pretty sick. That's why you see him throw up in the next chapter.

_Cyranothe2nd_: I was rereading the 7th book, and remember how angry, depressed, and upset Harry was after Ron left? That's when he found out about the Horcrux, and I figured that since he was also incredibly conflicted about Dumbledore at that time, finding out about the Horcrux was his breaking point. At least that's how I see it. And the brain damage… well, maybe the Obliviate that was cast on Bertha Jorkins was just a really bad one. XP

_AnnAisu_: Yes, the 'spark' was the Horcrux bond.

_closedofHeart_: Thanks so much! I'm afraid I may be overdoing the plot a bit, but most of it all ties together… :/

_Loony Dagda_: Yes, Voldemort knew the whole time that it was Harry. He was pretty pissed that Harry sacrificed himself and therefore his Horcrux _again _for someone else's life. Plus, Hermione thought she was influencing Voldemort to hire Frost to protect Britain, though Voldemort would have hired him anyway.


	5. History

Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_.

A/N: I really hope you like dialogue. And sorry about all the italics; I really don't like bold or underlined fonts. :/

_Thoughts_

_:Telepathic communication:_

"_parseltongue"_

**'Print'**

~HP~

Harry tossed and turned all night. The bed was comfortable, and the room was more than dark enough, but he just couldn't help himself. Every time he closed his eyes, visions of book pages flashed before his eyes. While normally falling asleep became easier when staring at a book, _normally _he could close his eyes and see nothing. "Nothing" did not include book pages. He couldn't go to sleep while staring at a piece of parchment!

He tried closing his eyes once more. Maybe he _could _sleep staring at a piece of parchment. He was very resilient, after all. He tried not to read the words, hoping to will himself into a trance, at the very least, but the words on the page sparked his curiosity.

'**Crushing phoenix feathers releases the natural'**

A pale hand turned the page. Harry couldn't help but to start reading the top of the new page.

'**however volatile. When one observes the different properties between the tears and the feathers of the bird, it becomes astounding how'**

_:Potter, stop reading my mind. Now.:_

Harry's eyes flew open. _ Oops_, he thought guiltily, staring at the ceiling. It wasn't like he was trying to read Voldemort's mind; it just happened, and he certainly wasn't fond of the habit. He'd thought it wouldn't happen again because it hadn't happened since he left Britain, but maybe it was happening now because of the closer proximity between him and Voldemort. Whatever the case may be, he just couldn't help it.

He tried to keep his eyes open, but after two full days of surprises, his body was practically screaming that it needed sleep. His eyes slipped shut again.

:_Potter!: _Voldemort's voice snapped at him, and Harry jolted as a small but painful shock shot into his skull.

:_Ow, calm down!: Stupid prick_, he thought to himself._ : It's not like I'm _trying _to read your mind! I'd be more than perfectly happy to sleep, but your stupid _reading _won't let me!: _ Harry shot back, irritated beyond belief. He really wished he knew how to electrocute Voldemort back.

_:Occlumency tomorrow. 1 o'clock in my study. Now go to sleep, and stop being such a nuisance.: _ And with that, Voldemort slammed some sort of mental barrier between them.

_Good riddance_, Harry thought as he finally drifted into sleep with an exasperated sigh.

~HP~

After a delicious breakfast served by Kreacher (Tipsy offered, but Harry was still worried Voldemort would try to poison his food), Harry located Voldemort's library and began searching for books on Occlumency; if Voldemort was going to be digging through his head, he was going to be as prepared as possible.

While Harry had never been a particularly exceptional student in Hogwarts, he had always shown talent when he put forth the effort. He had mastered the Patronus charm in his third year, learned _Accio _in his fourth year, and, though he was loath to admit it, he had cast _Sectumsempra _in sixth year perfectly without even practicing. Surely, he thought, without Snape breathing down his back, he could learn a decent bit of Occlumency on his own before his upcoming lesson (torture session) with Voldemort.

He found one book on the subject called _The Elusive Mind Arts_. When he discovered it was the only book he could find, he grudgingly began to consider forgiving Snape ever so slightly for not giving him a book to study from in fifth year, considering how obscure the subject appeared to be.

Still, it wouldn't do to dwell on his epically useless lessons with Snape, he thought as he opened to the first page. _I'm just going to pretend those lessons never happened._

Glancing at the table of contents, he opted to skip right to the section on Occlumency. He scowled as he saw the title of the first chapter. The author wrote, Harry imagined, with a distinctly Snapelike voice: **Clearing Your Mind**.

Despite the author's initial resemblance to Snape, however, the book proved to be much more helpful. Choosing from several different methods of clearing his mind, ranging from simply disciplining oneself into thinking about nothing to mentally singing a favorite song (which honestly sounded quite questionable), Harry chose to imagine his own personal landscape with its own physical defenses.

The book told him to imagine the safest place possible and then to fortify it with his magically. At first, he imagined his old cupboard. While he certainly wasn't fond of it, he had always known that as soon as he was in it, the Dursleys couldn't actually touch him. Then he thought of the times Dudley had started jabbing at him in the cupboard with a toy sword. The wizard scowled at the memories. He would definitely not be using the cupboard. Next, he thought of Hogwarts, but then he remembered the many times he'd almost died there. He thought of his previous homes over the more recent years, but none of that he could think of really popped out to him as "safe".

So he imagined his own place: A small cottage he could visit when he felt overwhelmed, with a kitchen, a pleasant living room reminiscent of the Gryffindor common room, and a cozy study that had its own desk, fireplace, and bookshelves. It was all very sweet, discounting the training room in the basement. The cottage was in the middle of a maze of a forest, surrounded by a thick, hopefully impermeable fog. He used his magic to fortify the cottage walls, and he placed traps where he thought anyone (like Voldemort) would go looking for his memories. As for the actual memories, he molded them into the dining ware, hidden inside the kitchen drawers and cupboards.

It was all very fragile, and it would take some time for his mind to stay organized enough to maintain it, the book said, but it was a decent start. If he spent time in his mindscape before bed every day, and slowly funneled his magic through the weave of its makeup, it would become quite solid, even when he wasn't thinking about it.

Shaking himself out of his trance, Harry cast a silent _Tempus_, grimacing when he saw that it was already 12:45. He had just fifteen minutes before his lesson with Voldemort, and he hadn't even been able to eat lunch yet. He didn't even want to risk grabbing a quick bite to eat before the meeting; for all he knew, he would end up suffering from indigestion afterwards. Woefully, he thought, _Being around Voldemort is ruining my diet. I'm going to starve before the week is up._

When Harry knocked on Voldemort's study door, he was somewhat surprised when no one answered. He reached out tentatively with his magic and couldn't detect any active magical signatures nearby. Still, he decided to push the door open, absently wondering if he would see Voldemort's dead body inside. He certainly wouldn't be too upset if he saw it.

Alas, there was no dead Dark Lord to be seen. _What a shame._

_:Potter, stop imagining my death_.: Voldemort's voice was tinged with irritated amusement. _:It's rude.:_

Harry huffed. _:Way to spoil my fun,: _he shot back. _:Where are you, anyway?:_

_:Outside. I've come across some… complications. We'll have to reschedule your lesson for later today… Eight o'clock.:_

Harry replied sarcastically, _:Of course, your Majesty. Thank you ever so much for _kindly_ informing me of your change of plans __**five minutes after our scheduled meeting**__.:_

_:"Your Majesty"… It has a nice ring to it, don't you agree?:_

Harry sighed. _:No, not really.:_

_:Yes, you _do_ agree, Potter.: _Voldemort said firmly.

:_Well, now that you mention it, "King Potter" does sound quite nice.:_

_:Careful, or I might start seeing you as competition: _Voldemort told him lightly, but Harry easily distinguished the thinly veiled threat hidden beneath the banter.

The younger wizard shook his head. :_Relax, I'm not going to steal your precious throne. As if I really want to deal with daily dragon attacks on London: _he scoffed.

A pause, then :_Potter, as enthralling as this conversation is, I have better things to do. Go entertain yourself with something else.:_

Suddenly reminded of his supposed duties, Harry felt obligated to ask, :_Do you need, er… are those "complications" you mentioned, er, life-threatening?:_

_:Don't be such an imbecile. Of course I don't need you.: _Voldemort told him flatly. _:Now stop distracting me.:_

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes once again, Harry started off toward his suite, more than happy to eat a decent lunch finally.

It was shortly after, just as he finished up his meal, that he felt an owl trying to fly through the wards. Sensing no potentially harmful spells on it, he let it through and went down to meet it in the Atrium. Surprisingly, it wasn't for Voldemort; it was for him. The letter was from Hermione, and she wanted to take him out to dinner.

Well, Harry certainly couldn't say no to that. This would be the perfect opportunity to see more of Voldemort's effects on the actual wizarding world, and he'd be able to find out more about Hermione herself. Briefly, it occurred to him that this could be a trap to leave the Dark Lord unprotected, but Harry figured the House-elves would be able to take care of any problems, and they could always alert Harry himself if they really needed to. And really, Voldemort was the Dark Lord. He could definitely take care of himself; he didn't truly need a bodyguard.

_:I'm going out to dinner with Hermione,: _Harry told Voldemort. _:Unless you're planning to go somewhere?:_

_:No… See if you can find out if she had anything to do with the powerstone.: _He sounded somewhat preoccupied.

Of course, Harry couldn't simply have a nice dinner with his old friend. Now he had to investigate her, too. _Wonderful._

Still happy at the prospect of seeing Hermione (and it wasn't as if he _actually _planned to investigate her), he quickly wrote out a response and gave it to the waiting owl.

**'Dear Ms. Granger,**

**Of course I'd like to meet you for dinner. Six would work well for me. Where would you like to meet?**

**Cordially yours,**

**Charles Frost'**

~HP~

Harry met Hermione just inside the entrance of Diagon Alley.

From what he could see, the Alley looked much like he'd seen it in first year. It was crowded; the people were happy; vibrant magic filled the air. It was strange to think that the wizarding world could remain so familiar after going through so many different Ministries in such short a time. Then again, if the people could be happy with a brainless oaf like Fudge, then it was no surprise that they could be just as happy with his complete opposite in charge.

"Frost, how are you?" asked Hermione from the side once she found him, interrupting his thoughts.

"To be honest, I'm a little confused. I hadn't expected everyone to be so…"

"Happy?" she finished for him, looking at him knowingly. Harry nodded, not knowing what to say. Hermione continued, "It's not what you'd expect, is it?" She let out a short, airy snort. "Well, I definitely won't mind if you ask questions while we walk. What type of food would you like to eat? There are lots of decent restaurants towards the end of the Alley."

After a short conversation, they decided to eat at a casual Italian place Hermione often dined at with her boyfriend. As they walked, Harry pointed out things he found odd. Despite not knowing his true identity, she knew he'd left Britain near the time Voldemort came to power, and she was happy to fill him in.

"Why wasn't the Alley damaged at all by the dragons?" he asked, smiling as he noticed that they were passing Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"You weren't born in the wizarding world, were you?" Hermione asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "Well, Diagon Alley isn't really in London. Along with the other Alleys, it's actually further out in the country. Its main entrance, the Leaky Cauldron, is in London since so many people live there, but the Alleys are in the country where there's more room to expand."

"I never knew."

"That's not too surprising, actually. Most wizards and witches just take it for granted."

Abruptly, something strange caught his eye. "Is that a centaur?"

Hermione laughed. "Of course it is. See, he's picking up a telescope. You know how much they like the stars. They don't have much magic themselves, so when they want a good enchanted telescope, they come here."

"But, how do they fit through the door?"

Hermione looked at him like he was an idiot. "Magic, Frost."

Harry snorted at his own stupidity. "Right," he mumbled.

They walked on in comfortable silence, Harry occasionally asking questions or making observations and Hermione happily explaining. It was as Harry thought. Britain's wizarding world hadn't changed much –or at least its populace hadn't. During the lull in the conversation, Harry wondered why exactly Hermione wanted to talk to him. Perhaps she just wanted to talk to him. Perhaps she just wanted to see how he and Voldemort were faring. Maybe she didn't really trust Harry and wanted to find out more about him. _At least she has a boyfriend, which means she doesn't want to date me_, Harry thought gratefully. That would be weird.

They finally reached the restaurant, Angelo's, choosing a small corner table by the windows facing the alley. After placing their order, Hermione cast a mild privacy ward on their table, strong enough to repel others' attention but weak enough not to keep their waiter away. "So why was our Lord's office in such a mess when I came in to inform Him about the dragons?"

Harry frowned slightly. "Apparently he was testing me," he spat.

Hermione chuckled. "He would."

"I take it he does stuff like that often?"

"Oh, not often, but he does visit each department somewhat regularly to make sure we're doing our jobs correctly. And on rare occasions, yes, he tests us, too."

"How… how did you start working for him?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly. "I… suffered from severe memory loss the year He took power. I was staying with my friend when it happened. My friend –he was… really stressed out, so when I lost my memories he left me with our other friend's family. They were –are amazing people, but they were enemies of our Lord. One day, we were all taken into custody…"

Harry listened with rapt attention, guilt gnawing at his insides.

Hermione stared at the table. "I was given two options. I could go to Azkaban with the rest of the Muggleborns, or… I could work for Him." Her voice shook nearly imperceptibly. "I didn't… I chose to work for him. I was, well, to be honest, I started as his researcher. My fr- Harry Potter sent in this letter, and then the Dark Lord ordered me to find out as much about prophecies as I could, until whatever I found satisfied Him." Her tone changed to exasperation. "Do you know how stupid prophecies can be? So many of them are self-fulfilling or full of tricky metaphors that can be taken a hundred different ways, or the wording's so misleading that the prophecy ends up being misinterpreted by absolutely everyone! Sometimes, I think seers make up the stupid things just to mess with other people." Hermione paused, taking a deep breath, and Harry had to stifle a laugh.

"Anyway," she continued, "Whatever I found eventually satisfied him, and he set me to work on publicity. That was certainly… interesting. To do it, I had to find out the public's opinion, and, well, they certainly weren't fond of Him. And I, being the overly brave Gryffindor I am, told Him that I needed more to work with. I needed something good to tell the people."

"I bet he didn't like that," said Harry solemnly.

Hermione laughed weakly. "No, no He definitely didn't."

"Did he…?" Harry trailed off, not really even knowing what he was asking.

Hermione smiled sadly. "Well, let's just say that I've been hit by more than my fair share of Cruciatus curses…"

"I'm so sorry."

She waved her hand dismissively. "It's not your fault."

_Yes, it is._

"Don't worry about it," she told Harry, ignorant of his inner turmoil. "The point is, it got better. Eventually, after I did enough work for him, after I could talk to him reasonably without fearing for my safety, I convinced him to free the Muggleborns from Azkaban. I finally did some good."

"How in the world did you manage _that_?" Harry asked, simultaneously amazed and proud.

"Statistics," she told him, grinning smugly. "They're very difficult to argue against, even for him. Did you know that a third of the population has Muggle blood running through their veins? And when purebloods inbreed too much, their magic gets weaker."

"I'd guessed, but it seems you actually _proved _it. I'm sure you've saved hundreds of lives."

Hermione smiled, and Harry couldn't help but ask, "What happened to the Muggleborns who were released from Azkaban?"

Her smile faded. "Most of the adults were exiled. I guess He was worried they'd rebel, but he didn't simply kill them because I'd already showed him how small our population really is. We can't afford to kill ourselves off. As for the younger Muggleborns, he sent them back to school where they could be… indoctrinated, I suppose, into the new regime."

"What about Muggleborns now?"

Hermione frowned. "They're taken as soon as they're detected, which can be as soon as they're born. They're raised at Hogwarts until,_ if_, someone adopts them."

"Hogwarts? Really?"

"Well, the school's certainly large enough, and it's already got so many protective charms in place that we might as well use it year round."

"Who raises them?"

"Ginny Weasley and Daphne Greengrass."

Harry blinked several times, trying to conceal his surprise.

"You know them?" Hermione inquired, furrowing her eyebrows.

Harry thought quickly. She knew he was British, so she probably assumed he went to Hogwarts. "I think I recognize their names from school."

"Ah" was all she said in response.

They paused, letting the silence rest heavily as their waiter served their food. A few minutes after he'd left and they'd been able to enjoy their meal a bit, Hermione finally asked, "So how about you? What's your history?"

Harry swallowed his food quickly, half choking on it. He took a sip of water, stalling for time as he debated what to tell her. He almost wanted to tell her his true identity, but he didn't want to see the betrayal on her face. "It's not much, really," he said casually.

"Oh, come on. I told you _much _more than I needed to about me."

Harry huffed. He'd tell her he went to Hogwarts, but he had to be in a different house and year than her so she wouldn't suspect who he was. "Well, I went to Hogwarts here, but I left-"

"Oh really? What year did you graduate? I don't remember you."

_Charles Frost suddenly appeared out of nowhere eight years ago_, he remembered her saying. He didn't like these questions she was asking. "1996," he answered calmly.

"What House?"

"Slytherin."

"Oh… I'm guessing you left when our Lord came to power. How did you end up as a bodyguard?"

Harry happily told her about how he'd moved from country to country and from job to job. He soaked in her laughs and comments; he'd forgotten what it was like to have a good friend to talk to. "And then you showed up," he finished up. "And now I'm here."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "And is it as bad as you thought it would be?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it's really not. It's almost… nice, to be back."

Hermione gazed at him, looking as if she was trying to pick him apart. Harry repressed the urge to shift nervously under her assessment. He felt like a bug underneath a microscope. (This was happening much too frequently, in his opinion.)

Finally, she opened her mouth. "It's you, isn't it?"

Harry froze. "What?"

She stared at him again. After another long moment of analyzing him, she said, "Sirius Black."

Harry jerked backwards, eyes wide.

"It _is _you! I know it!" Her eyes were wide as she smacked the table in emphasis.

"I don't know what you mean," he spoke stiffly.

Hermione lunged across the table, engulfing him in a huge hug. "Oh, Harry, I've missed you so much!" She sobbed in his ear and squeezed her arms around him tightly.

Harry wrapped his arms around her in wonder, savoring the feeling of finally having his friend back. "I've missed you, too," he whispered. _Damnit, I will not cry! _He told himself, and somehow he managed to be successful. After a long moment, he patted her on the back, regretfully telling her hoarsely, "I'm going to have to breathe soon."

Hermione released a weak laugh, pulling away from him reluctantly.

She looked down at herself, seemingly embarrassed to see she was covered in food. Harry cast a cleaning charm on her, and she looked at him gratefully, but suddenly her grateful look turned to anger. "Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you owl?" She looked hurt.

Harry looked away, speaking quietly. "I didn't think you'd want to hear from me."

"How could you possibly think that?"

"I thought you'd be upset I didn't fight Voldemort."

Hermione looked at him sadly. "Harry, you were just seventeen. I would never expect-"

"You don't know what it was like!" Harry suddenly burst out, old anger and hurt welling up inside. "_Everyone _expected me to defeat him! You just don't remember-"

"Maybe it's a good thing I don't remember. Knowing what I know now, knowing what he's like… I would never expect a seventeen year old to defeat him, and I'm sorry that others did. Besides, the world's a pretty nice place now-"

"Aside from the dragons," Harry grumbled.

"And," Hermione continued, looking at him pointedly, "No one expects you to kill him, anymore… Well, mostly," she admitted. "If I were you, I wouldn't let that new Order hear of your existence. Who _knows _what they would do."

Harry nodded. "How is everyone?"

"Well, I'm not totally sure who 'everyone' is since I probably don't remember all of them, but I know about some. After the Weasleys and I were taken into custody, I found out that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were exiled. I think they went to America. I hear they love taking in refugees over there. I think Ron went with them. Lupin was exiled, along with some woman with a name like Tinks or something. I think they're in France. Anyone else?"

"Kingsley, Mundungus, Dedalus Diggle?"

"Oh," sighed Hermione, dropping her gaze. "They're… dead."

"Oh," he repeated. "What about the rest of the Weasleys? You said Ginny was working at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, I heard she's dating Blaise Zabini. He's the Minister, by the way. As for the others, Fred and George have their joke shop here in Diagon Alley. Charlie's still in Romania working with dragons, and Bill's still a cursebreaker in Egypt."

Harry grinned. "I remember Bill and Charlie. I saw them briefly while I was still trying to figure out what to do." Suddenly, Harry realized how long they'd been there. "_Tempus_," he cast, cursing under his breath when he saw that he had just fifteen minutes before his lesson with Voldemort. "I'm really sorry, Hermione, but I have to go. We'll get together again soon?"

"Of course! I'll owl you. And don't worry about the meal. I'll pay."

"All right, but next one's on me," he told her, grinning slightly. "It's been great to see you!" He gave her a quick hug before whirling around.

"Harry," she sounded amused. "They have a Floo over there," she told him, pointing. "We only walked here because I thought you'd want to see the Alley."

"Oh. Thanks, Hermione!"

"Anytime," she grinned.

~HP~

Harry was not in the mood to learn Occlumency, so he figured he would try to get Voldemort to monologue. It was worth a shot. "Why did you decide not to kill all the old Muggleborns?"

"Why do you ask? Finding it difficult to believe I saved their lives out of the pure goodness of my heart?"

Harry gave Voldemort an exasperated look. "Yes," he said bluntly.

"Politics, Potter," the man across the table drawled.

"But wouldn't that make your bootlickers hate you?"

"Correct, however, I found that the disadvantages overwhelmed the advantages in killing them."

"That's strange," Harry began. "Because I could have sworn you were dead set on killing them for years."

"I will admit that, thanks to you, I wasn't completely sane after my resurrection," Voldemort started, looking at him pointedly.

"Thanks to me?" Harry asked indignantly. "What did _I _do?"

Voldemort smirked. "I needed the blood of my enemy, and you weren't completely my enemy."

Harry stared at him incredulously. "Oh, I was definitely your enemy."

"But the Horcrux wasn't."

"Oh… So the botched ritual drove you insane?"

"That, and the Horcruxes. When you began, for lack of better terminology," At this Voldemort scowled. "'repairing' my soul, I began to see the detrimental effects of my vendetta on the economy and on public opinion."

Harry raised his own eyebrow in turn. "I understand how the economy would probably be affected badly. But the public opinion… Not that I mind, but wouldn't throwing the Muggleborns in Azkaban or killing them make people fear you more? Isn't that what you wanted?"

Voldemort eyed Harry thoughtfully. "What do you know about Grindelwald, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "Just that he was a Dark Lord who was defeated by Dumbledore."

"True, and there's much to be learned from his tactics. Grindelwald started much the same as I did by gathering his own following. He found a common cause to unite the majority and used their support to further his own ends. He ruled his people with fear and caught several nations by surprise when he attacked them. What he failed to realize, however, was that the fear he found so useful actually bred rebellion, and the rest of Europe didn't take well to genocide. So he failed.

"When I regained my sanity, also thanks to you, Potter, in part, I realized I could no longer follow in Grindelwald's footsteps if I wished to gain true power. First, I exiled the older, more harmless Muggleborns and rebels who were too used to the old regime. That way, instead of seeing genocide, the rest of the world saw how 'merciful' I was to my opponents. Then I started reforms to make the people happy."

"But I don't think everyone's happy with you," Harry interrupted.

"Of course. _That_ is why I've kept Azkaban. I have total control, and that scares people. _That_ is why I created fair laws and demand fair trials, and the people respect me for it. You see, Potter, Machiavelli was wrong. Fear alone may keep most of the population in line, but it incites all the Gryffindors to rebel, as you well know. Respect alone will stop most wizards from stabbing their ruler in the back, but it won't necessarily be enough to hold back Hufflepuffs from trying to save their poor, exiled friends. Happiness will keep the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws under control, but it won't stop Slytherins who want power and Ravenclaws who want more leeway. But when a ruler manages to make the population fear, respect, and love him, that's when he's truly free to pursue even more power."

Harry stared at the wall behind Voldemort's head, not knowing what to think. After a moment, "Pursue even more power?" He asked carefully, looking back at the Dark Lord in front of him.

Voldemort smirked. "Of course. You didn't think I'd stop at Britain, did you?"

Harry started opening his mouth and then closed it again.

"Potter, enough stalling. What have you read so far?"

"How do you know I've read anything at all?"

"Because I know."

"Well-"

"Potter."

"Occlumency. Right."

~HP~

Please do not favorite this story or me as an author without leaving a review. **  
**

A/N: There's a **poll** on my profile where you can vote on what genre this should be.

This wasn't action filled, but I think it still held a lot of content. Let me know if I managed to keep the characters in character.

Ohhh, right. I was reading _The Psychology of Harry Potter _b/c I love HP and psychology, and when I saw the book I was like "YESS!" And so I was reading about Harry, and apparently, because of his rotten childhood, his resultant avoidant behavior, and his passivity in all his relationships, he's doomed to be alone forever. Soooooo, this isn't a romance. Now go write or read a happy fanfic between Harry and someone so he can finally be happy, and/or go read/write a fanfic that fixes his childhood. (cuz the Dursley's need to go. Really, someone needs to take care of them, if you know what I mean.)

*I based the information of Grindelwald off Hitler.

*Machiavelli: Renaissance author who wrote _The Prince_; about rulers and the power of fear


	6. Forget

Disclaimer: I do not own _Harry Potter_or any of its affiliates.

A/N: You guys are awesome, you know that, right? I was a bit of a pessimist when I wrote my last author's note, as if you couldn't tell. And when so many of you argued with me about Harry's future, just... awww! :) You guys are so sweet, and you totally made me feel better. I doubt that's what you were trying to do, but hey, whatevs. Sorry for the late chapter and shorter length, btw, it was a horror to write. I mean seriously, it was like trying to squeeze juice from a boulder. Especially the beginning. Alrighty, I know I had a ton more to write in this AN, but I forgot what it is. So please enjoy the story! Love you guys! :)

~HP~

"You need to simplify your mindscape. Currently, it's too complicated for you to focus on anything but consciously maintaining it. Try cutting it down to a single room. As you become more skilled at maintaining it unconsciously, then you can build on it," Voldemort told Harry before turning back to his paperwork.

The younger wizard sighed and stared at the table. He glanced at the other wizard surreptitiously. Satisfied that Voldemort seemed thoroughly engaged with his paperwork, Harry closed his eyes and imagined the cozy study he would love to have, molding his memories into the bricks of the wall. He opened his eyes. "Now what?"

"Now, I find out what we have to work with. Are you ready to defend yourself?"

Harry took a deep breath, trying to temper his uneasiness. By all appearances, Voldemort wasn't trying to kill him anymore, and with their close proximity, Occlumency was going to become a necessity very quickly. Still, Harry was anything but comfortable as he thought of Voldemort rifling through his mind. He nodded stiffly, thinking of his mindscape as impenetrable as possible.

Red eyes locked on agitated green, and Voldemort silently attacked Harry's mind.

Harry tried to push him out, but somehow Voldemort's presence slipped right in. The Dark Lord began examining Harry's mindscape, poking at the furniture. Dust fell from the ceiling as the older wizard began prodding the walls. Just as Hermione's face swam in Harry's vision and one of the bricks Voldemort touched started sliding out of the wall, the older wizard abruptly pulled out of Harry's mind.

Harry gasped, rubbing his temples. He was already getting a headache. Out of his mind and back in reality, he stared at Voldemort from across the table. "Well?"

"Your groundwork is satisfactory; however, we have much to work on."

"Satisfactory? But you broke through so easily..." Personally, he felt his defense was rather pitiful.

Voldemort looked at him sharply. "Most untrained wizards' mindscapes, if they even have one, shatter the moment I enter their minds, especially considering my... not inconsiderable skill," he said with a smirk.

Harry blinked. _How humble._

"You mentioned fog earlier," Voldemort began again. "But I didn't encounter any. I'm assuming you rid yourself of it when you simplified your mindscape." Harry nodded, so the older wizard continued, "Keep it. As you improve, you can strengthen it into a shield or use it in other ways. For now, try to force me out. Ready?"

Harry nodded.

This time, Voldemort entered Harry's mind much more slowly. Just as he entered the peripheral edge of the fog, he paused. Despite a pounding headache, Harry mustered up his strength and pushed Voldemort's presence away as best as he could. Except all his effort wasn't doing anything.

:_For Salazar's sake, Potter, don't be an idiot. You're a wizard. You can't simply will me away and hope it happens. If that was the case, even Muggles would be able to perform Legilimency and Occlumency. You have to lace your will with magic._:

The irritation that surged through Harry only made his pulsing headache worse. :_Fine!_: he snapped. He gathered a tendril of his magic and shot it towards the older wizard's mental presence. Somehow, it worked.

Harry stared at the Dark Lord across the real-life table suspiciously. "That seemed too easy," said the younger wizard, rubbing his aching temples.

"That's because I was near the surface of your mind and I didn't resist being thrown out."

Harry looked at Voldemort doubtfully. _Voldemort did_not _resist? That seems to go against his very nature._

The Dark Lord in question looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "Despite what you may think, Potter, I'm trying to teach you, not torture you." Ignoring Harry's quiet snort, he told the younger wizard, "Now that you know how it feels to force out an intruder, I want you to try to apply the feeling to a real attack to assess how much further you have to progress."

Harry sighed warily, resting his chin on one of his palms. Nervousness crept towards the forefront of his thoughts, but he shoved it down harshly. "Fine, but no more after this. I feel like my head's about to explode." _Is this really worth a good night's sleep?_

Voldemort nodded, and before Harry even realized it, the Dark Lord was diving into his mind.

Harry shot tendrils of magic at Voldemort repeatedly, but the older wizard darted past every single one. Finally he managed a hit, but the Dark Lord seemed hardly affected by it. :_Now I_know _you can do better than that,_: the man drawled as he landed in the study.

:_Merlin's pants, do you ever shut up?_: Harry asked, exasperated, as he aimed a particularly powerful blow at the other wizard's presence.

Voldemort dodged, warning Harry as the shot flew past him and incinerated a large part of the ornamental bookshelves, :_Careful, Potter, the mind is very delicate._: And on that note he promptly splayed his hand against the bricks that made up Harry's memories.

Harry watched as the wall of bricks rippled like water from where Voldemort had placed his hand. :_Stop!_: he shouted in alarm, but before he could even hear his own voice he was plunged into the past.

Harry was flying high in the air, trying to coax the Horntail upwards like a snake charmer, and Voldemort's voice was echoing in his ears, but Harry couldn't understand because suddenly the dragon's tail was slicing across his shoulder, and he was diving downwards, and he wondered why Voldemort was talking to him in his head because that was bad, and all of the sudden Snape was sneering at him, "Clear your mind, Potter!" And he was trying, but the stupid git wasn't telling him how, and he was so frustrated, and Snape was invading Harry's memories again, and Ripper was chasing him up a tree while the Dursley's were laughing, and Voldemort was watching, and Voldemort wasn't supposed to see any of this because he would try to use it against Harry, and even though Harry was over it, and he just didn't care about the past because he wasn't a stupid, angsty teenager anymore, he didn't want to deal with it because Ron was apologizing for believing Harry entered the tournament and Harry was telling him to just _forget it_, and damnit, Harry wasn't going to allow Voldemort to see anymore because it wasn't any of his business and he didn't have the_right_to know, and none of it even mattered anymore, and the stupid git did _not_belong in Harry's mind!

And with that final thought, Harry gathered his magic, all the frustration from his memories, and the pain from his headache, and hurled it at the Dark Lord. The power of it encompassed his mind so fully that there was no possible way for the Dark Lord to escape. Voldemort cursed, and abruptly Harry found himself back in the real world. Only, his face was flat on the cool wood of the desk, and he felt like his skull was splitting open. As his vision faded, he heard Voldemort's pained sigh. "I said_lace_your will, not _overwhelm_it. Imbecile."

Harry came to a short moment later in the same spot to see Voldemort still working on paperwork in front of him. The younger wizard suppressed a groan as he sat up. His head felt no better than when he passed out. He stared at the desktop in front of him, bleary-eyed. He felt like a half-eaten rat that had been squashed by an elephant. A pale hand pushed a potion vial into view, the glass sliding across the table much too loudly.

"For your head," Voldemort explained curtly, and Harry felt the urge to scold him for shouting. He scowled at the offending vial. He wouldn't put it past the Dark Lord to have poisoned it. At the same time, though, Voldemort had just had Harry unconscious right in front of him after taking a stroll through Harry's brain. If the older wizard really wanted to hurt Harry, he would have. (Except, thought Harry smugly, he had a few tricks up his sleeve to protect him when he was unconscious, and the ever watchful Dobby and Kreacher would never let anything too untoward happen to him, even if their actions went against their charge.)

Harry sipped from the vial and shuddered in disgust. Despite the awful taste, the potion was safe. Harry gulped it down, pleased as a soothing chill relieved his pounding skull. "Thanks," he mumbled, refusing to meet the other wizard's eyes. He stood up and walked out the door.

Only silence followed him.

~HP~

Harry spent the next day reading old Daily Prophets, exploring the grounds (and consequently being scarred for life), and avoiding Voldemort. Avoidance was one of Harry's specialties, and the Dark Lord made it especially easy when he spent the whole day in his study.

The younger wizard found Nagini in the greenhouse. The building was full of both native and exotic plants, and from the ones the bodyguard could identify, none were for decoration. He heard a hiss of warning come from his right. He cast a shield charm instinctively as he turned to look for the source of the noise and saw Nagini coiled on the ground, preparing to strike.

Harry hissed back at her to _"Stop_" before she could run into the shield. Fang popped out from beneath the sleeves of his robes. "_Hi_!" he greeted her enthusiastically.

Nagini paused, her large body relaxing slightly. She flicked her forked tongue out and tasted the air. Apparently whatever she smelled satisfied her, as she uncurled and rose to the height of Harry's chest, stating, "_You are the other Speaker my Master spoke of._" She circled once around Harry, examining him. "_You taste... pleasant._"

Harry frowned. He stepped out of the coil Nagini had made around him. "..._Thanks,_" he told her, shifting uncomfortably. _Fantastic,_he deadpanned mentally.

"_That's because he smells like me,_" Fang spoke proudly, slithering down Harry's arm and onto the floor. _Oh dear Merlin. Please stop talking, Fang_, Harry pleaded silently. But the black cobra didn't stop, much to Harry's chagrin. "_And you taste even better, if I do say so myself._"

Harry's eyes widened practically exponentially as Nagini lowered her head to Fang's level and flicked her tongue out much too closely to Fang's head for Harry's comfort. "_Why, aren't you a sweetheart. Still_," she shifted away slightly. "_Flattery will get you nowhere."_

Harry's ears were burning. _Oh, god. Fang is not... Nagini... Oh, Merlin._He felt slightly nauseated.

"_Well then-_" Fang started, but his mortified wizard cut him off. "_Ireallyshouldbegoing. I'll just, ah, leave you two alone._" Harry quickly left, sufficiently scarred for life, muttering a quick "_bye_" before basically running away.

_Why me?_

~HP~

Harry was practicing in the open field behind the castle when Voldemort found him the next day.

He knew that despite being sick, he shouldn't have been caught so unaware when Voldemort blinded him the day of their fight. So he started practicing simply enough. He enlarged a small rock to the temporary size of a boulder and enchanted it to emit the illusory aura of a strong magical signature. Then he left it where it was, closed his eyes, and began walking around and shooting stunners at it. When he was confident he could hit the rock successfully from different angles, speeds, and distances, he began modifying the task to increase its difficulty.

Soon, he was standing in place, surrounded by three revolving stones that were shooting light stinging hexes at him intermittently. He dodged and shielded simultaneously and suffered through the occasional sting. Over all, he felt he was making decent progress.

_Although_, he thought as he ducked a hex, _the enchantments are becoming a bit predictable, and they are a bit taxing on my magic._He missed working for the king of Spain. There, he had decent company and people who would have been glad to help him train. He didn't miss the people there that much, though. He had been too withdrawn and guarded to make any close friends. _Still_, he thought, bringing his mind back to the task at hand. _A partner to practice with would be nice._Unfortunately, Voldemort was the only other person on the premises, and he was one of the last people Harry would even consider asking for help. Despite what some would think, he had more self-preservation than that, thank you very much.

On that thought, an overly strong stinging hex zipped towards Harry's feet, which was odd, seeing as how the rocks shot less powerful hexes all aimed at Harry's torso. Harry jumped over the hex and opened his eyes, clenching his teeth together when he saw Voldemort raising an eyebrow at him from just outside the circle of revolving rocks, twirling his wand. "You do remember the training room I showed you in the castle, or did you already... forget?"

The way Voldemort said the word "forget" so thoughtfully, as if he was turning the word over and over in his mind and examining it from every angle, made Harry suspicious. He filed the observation away and began thinking about the current situation. "I prefer to practice outside," he told the other wizard levelly, staring at hist forehead. The Occlumency lesson pushed to the front of Harry's thoughts, and he decided that besides remembering to avoid eye contact, he would pretend that the lesson never happened, for the time being at least.

Oblivious to Harry's decisions (_or so I hope_, thought Harry), Voldemort hummed noncommittally. After a contemplative pause, he changed the topic. "Davis has finished the interrogations. It appears there are several for me to interrogate myself. You're coming with." Harry bristled at the order, but at least it was better than Voldemort leaving without telling him. The Dark Lord smirked coldly, about to say something.

Before he could continue speaking, Harry observed aloud, "You know, you smirk quite a lot. It's got to be unhealthy. I think your face will get stuck like that one day."

Voldemort's lips twitched, but then his face turned expressionless. "Despite how difficult the task may be, do try to keep your emotions in check, Potter."

Ignoring the jab at his emotional control, Harry asked, "And why would I have to do that?"

"Because Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley are among the few I'm interrogating."

~HP~

The interrogations were simple enough. The auror Davis explained to Voldemort the reasons why the person was there for questioning. Then Voldemort himself began asking questions. Why do you think you're here? What were you doing at the Ministry? What is your occupation? Who were you visiting? Where were you between three and seven P.M. on Thursday? What did you do when you found out dragons were attacking London? Why were you in the Room of Magical Artifacts? Why is your nose growing? Blablabla. Etc. Etc. Etc.

During each interview, the Dark Lord maintained a charming facade while letting his magical aura flood the room, overwhelming each interrogee. Harry found himself rather disgruntled by the whole thing. Not disgruntled because the Dark Lord's aura overwhelmed him, but because Voldemort's aura soothed him. It was... exasperating, Harry decided. _Stupid Horcrux._

He proceeded to sulk until he saw Hermione enter the room. She glanced at Harry and swallowed, and Harry knew that he wouldn't let anything terrible happen to her, even if it meant fighting Voldemort. His conscience wouldn't abide by anything less. Much to Harry's relief, the interrogation went much the same as the others, and Harry was thankful to see Hermione leave alive and well, if not somewhat pale and shaky. Harry was sure Voldemort was Legilimizing everyone as he was asking questions.

It was Ginny's interrogation that worried him the most. When she walked into the room, Harry felt something in his chest clench as guilt wormed its way into his heart. She would have been beautiful had she not been so pale, staring at the floor with hands clenched at her sides. Her red hair was cut at her shoulders, and she had faint smile lines at the corners of her mouth. Once upon a time, Harry could have married her.

Voldemort started by asking the regular questions. "Why were you here at the Ministry this Thursday?"

"I was visiting Blaise Zabini. He's my boyfriend," she clarified stonily, staring at the wall behind Voldemort's head.

"When did you speak to him? How long?"

Ginny's brow furrowed. "From about six until I took him to Saint Mungo's just a moment later."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Saint Mungo's?" He practically growled. His aura began to roil ominously.

"He... he said someone had attacked him. Just some fanatic who didn't like one of the bills he signed. He looked pretty bad." Ginny's stony voice was gone, replaced by a more unsure one, Voldemort's temper clearly making her uneasy.

"Why did he not inform me?" The Dark Lord's voice was tense and cold, and his magic was crackling around him.

"I don't... I don't know," Ginny said quietly.

"Let me see. Look me in the eye," he ordered.

Harry took that moment to cough from his place in the corner of the small room. The Dark Lord's eyes snapped to meet his and glared sharply, but Harry just raised his eyebrows slightly. Despite the glare, the older wizard's magic calmed marginally. Voldemort looked back at Ginny. "I need to know _exactly_what happened."

Relunctantly, Ginny looked up, and Harry felt a tug at his own mind as Voldemort invaded hers. He wondered if he could try to see what Voldemort was seeing, but he tamped down his curiosity. Perhaps he was willing to risk his own mind for curiosity's sake, but he wouldn't risk Ginny's. For all he knew, three minds was one too many when it came to mind magic. He stayed firmly planted in his own mindscape.

Finally, the light tugging at his mind ceased, and Voldemort stood from his chair. To Ginny, he said, "Go about your day as you normally would." In a darker voice, he told her, "And don't even think about leaving the country."

Ginny shook her head vigorously and promptly fled out the door. Turning to Harry, Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue, "_We're going to Saint Mungo's. Now._"

~HP~

AN: So what do you think? I'm trying to keep everyone in character. Is it working?

Oh, and lol, someone asked for more of Nagini and Fang and Parseltongue. Ask, and ye shall receive... sometimes. What do you think? Haha, mortifying Harry's pretty fun. I was gonna write a longer scene with them, but it was actually kind of disturbing.

Let me know what you think, guys. (_**Review, por favor!**_) Thanks for reading! :) And don't forget the _**poll**_ on my profile!

OH! And did anyone catch the memory within a memory bit? Reminds you of a certain movie, right? Right? XP

_**8/19/2011**_

_Hey guys, school's starting again, and that means AP and honors classes, extracurriculars, auditions, and college applications and visits, and yes, even a social life. Also, I'm writing a novel with a friend, and while we've got a good third of it done, well, we still have 2/3 left. And I'm sorry (truly sorry) to say that Bodyguard is not at the top of my list of priorities. I've not forgotten about it, I promise. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing; all of you have been amazing!_


	7. AN Only - Not a chapter

A/N:

It has come to my attention that this story deserves better than what I can do for it by sitting back and waiting for inspiration to strike. I've moved on to other fandoms and other stories, and I haven't updated in more than a year, as you all well know. To all my reviewers and readers, I do not plan to continue writing this story, and for that I am deeply sorry.

However, fandom is about sharing and spreading the joy, and I would still like to contribute what I can. If any of you would like to continue this, please send me a message on my profile or on my tumblr, which you will find on my ff account bio. If you would like to keep everything or most of what I've written, I would like to see some of your previous work or, if that's not an option, I'd like to see an "excerpt" of what you have planned for the next chapter of this fanfic. I know this seems like a lot to ask, but this story was my brainchild and one of the first things I wrote that showed me I do have actual ability, and I still love it to death.

On the other hand, I know a lot of you love the idea of Harry as a bodyguard, and of course I don't own the idea. In fact, I encourage you to use the idea and take it where you will, to give it a fresh start. If any of this inspires you, please use it.

If you do decide to write anything based off this, please feel free to let me know by message or review. I'd love to see what you've written! _Harry Potter _may not be my main fandom anymore, but it will always be my first (like a virgin, baby! sorry not sorry), and I will always hold it close to my heart.

Okay, I'm done sounding like a weird old sap, and this honestly was not meant to be so long, but adklfjalksdjf this was my first great fanfic and it wILL ALWAYS BE MY BABY OKAY?!

And with that, I bid you adieu. Farewell, my lovelies!


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